


The Lucky One aka We could be platonic, you know?

by CoraM



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, F/M, allison being awesome and alive, lot of stiles/allison friendship cause i'm bitter and want what i could never have, lot of twitter crashs, oh yeah, scott is the bad ass cinnamon roll alpha that he is only he's human here, there are werewolves but scott is not one of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraM/pseuds/CoraM
Summary: WHO’S THE LUCKY ONE? LYDIA MARTIN HAS A SOULMATEShe is also a hero, but hey! look at the mark! read more'Well, there you go', Stiles thought as he read the headline. 'You go random person. You’re the luckiest shit alive'. --The college-soulmate au you never asked for. Lydia is a famous actress and Stiles, a college student barely handling the weight of his own past. Together they can do amazing things such as crashing twitter, like, twice, maybe more. Stiles swears it's all Jackson's fault.





	1. Twitter Crash #1 and #2

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It's Nice to Finally Tweet You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834075) by [Pendragons Dragonlord (PseudoAuthor)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoAuthor/pseuds/Pendragons%20Dragonlord). 



It was Monday and Stiles already felt like his week would suck. There were reasons for that. Very good reasons. Stiles had made a list before he even opened his eyes in the morning and in his head, it was color coded:

**His coffee was not ready.** He could tell that by the distinctive absence of anything resembling a coffee aroma around the room. So either Scott had completely forgot to make coffee before going out to practice (unlikely) or even worse, he wasn’t out of bed yet.

**He was late.** That was obvious by the fact that he hadn't been woken up by the sound of the alarm clock on his bedside table. And Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t woken up before it rang. Only because that had never happened, in his entire life. So there.

**He had a crushing hangover.** God, why oh why, he though it was a good idea to go out drinking with Scott and Allison on a Sunday? He had a 7 a.m. class. He knew that for sure because he could perfectly remember Scott’s disapproving stare and Jackson's smug smile when he told them he had just enrolled for Professor Richards' Criminology and Law course.

_“You're crazy to take that, dude.” Scott had said with a shake of his head, eyes downcast to his cereal. “You’ll never wake up in time, it’s gonna be a mess. You’re gonna be in a bad mood the rest of the day. You’ll be a dick on Mondays, a Monday dick... I can actually feel it.”_

_Stiles had raised his eyebrows at that, but didn’t even tried a sarcastic remark because sometimes Scott was just too easy and it wasn’t even fun._

_Jackson didn’t miss a beat though and got out of the room taking his granola bar with him and murmuring something about “fuck each other and get it over with”._

**Scott was right and he was gonna be insufferable.** So far, Stiles had been to exactly two out of six classes and was about to fail for absence alone. He could only miss about two more classes. Well, maybe one now. _Fuck_.

Stiles finally took a breath long enough to clear his head and summed up the courage he needed to get up, take some aspirin from the bathroom cabinet, swallow it up with the rest of the disgustingly warm beer left on his bedside table, and finally took a look at his phone to check out the time.

**6:39 a.m.**

He hated the universe with a passion.

Because it COULD be 9 a.m. and then Stiles would just have to accept missing another class and could actually take the morning off to do stuff, like nursing his hangover for once. But the way it was, he could still get in class on time if only he got ready in about 5 minutes, missed his daily dose of caffein, took all the right turns and ran like a mad man on the path that took him from the box-sized apartment he shared with Jackson and Scott to the main campus of Harvard Law School.  **With a hangover.**

He really truly hated this week already.

So he ran. And in an unlikely fashion actually made all the right curves, didn’t fall once and reached the classroom door just as a serious Professor Richards was about to close it.

The professor's eyebrow almost reached his hairline as he took Stiles' state – from his rumpled plaid shirt to his actual pijama pants and the darkness around his eyes -, but Stiles only shrugged and threw the teacher the most gullible smile he could muster at that hour of the day. When the professor's expression didn't change after a beat, Stiles huffed.

“C'mon, I’m _here_. You don’t get to complain as in _how_.” he stated firmly - or as firmly as one could do anything being completely out of breath after running two blocks, three long-ass corridors and a flight of stairs.

The professor's eyebrow came back to its normal position on his crinkled face and he actually smiled at that.

“No complaints here, Mr. Stilinski” he answered calmly, and added just as Stiles was walking into the room. “I’m glad you could join us this week. And of course, I trust you to be ready for today’s surprise quiz.”

_Motherfucking crappy Monday._

* * *

The thing was, if Stiles had had any time this morning like he usually did, he would have gotten up with way more ease. Probably enough to make coffee himself, sit down to eat his cereal and maybe banter a bit with Jackson, as the guy came back from his morning run, sweating all over Stiles' couch.

If only he had woken up earlier.

If he hadn’t relented to Allison’s doe eyes as she affirmed that he just _needed_  to know that bar, because it had most of his favorite beers and there was this girl he just _had_  to meet. If he had sticked to his daily healthy routine, then he would have known that today wasn’t any day and that there was an specific reason why the mark on his skin, located just on the junction of his shoulder and neck, was burning only slightly.

But, of course, he didn’t know.

So Stiles simply brushed his neck with his left hand and attributed the burning to a bad sleeping position. He didn’t even blink when a girl beside him took an intake of breath at something she saw on her phone.

He was so tired and he had a quiz to ace. Stiles didn’t care.

Life sometimes.

* * *

 

Lydia knew for sure this week was going to suck.

She knew it even before what her mother liked to call  **The Tragedy** had happened.

She knew it because when she put on her shoes last night, Lydia had done it in front of a big ass mirror and had seen how easy the v neck of her dress went a bit further down, and exactly what that movement revealed.

So she spent her night thinking about make up, concealers, band-aids and a bunch of other stuff, but her mother had just walked in furiously speaking on the phone, yelling about limousines and disastrous services. One look at the woman’s blue eyes told Lydia she had no time to put on make up herself and she hadn't trust any of the professionals around with that big of a secret, so she would just have to look out for the v neck. No problem. She had done it a thousand times before.

Not that having a mark was something to be hidden. But when you’re a rising actress booking all major roles in Hollywood, getting sweet to downright creepy love letters from all parts of the world - all before even reaching 22 years old –, maybe revealing one of the most intimate parts of your persona would not be that good of an idea.

Lydia couldn’t even remember the last time a celebrity was honest about having a mark. Maybe it was Cary Grant or James Dean. Whoever it was, they were old enough that they didn’t have to handle Twitter, so really, she was the one in the imminence of real suffering here.

Now, Lydia Martin was sort of a genius - not that the media knew that, obviously -, so she wasn’t one to neglect all the ways a situation could go completely apocalyptically wrong. So naturally, on her way to the fancy looking limousine her mother seemed to have acquired from the devil himself, she had thought up about a dozen worse case scenarios.

**Her bag could fall.**  Kira – blessed be her heart – would grab it for her instantly and without hesitation.

**There could be one of those low hanging camera** **booths.** She could simply pull a Jennifer Lawrence and only show her golden rings – she had perfect manicured nails about now.

**One of the camera could be too high, or maybe a drone.** She would just have to be extra careful not to bend.

Lydia went on about twenty minutes more and by the time they had pulled over by entrance of the red carpet, she was truly confident everything would be alright. 

And that was still her main thought as Lydia talked with interviewer number three hundred and seven about how excited she was about her nomination – but that she was certain she would never win, because Kate Winslet was absolutely phenomenal in anything she did and this was Leo’s year and the world simply _needed_  a picture of those two holding matching oscars. But of course, this week was going to suck, as stated before. So it didn’t last.

Now, Lydia wasn’t one to do it, but this one time she had to look up the skies and actually congratulate the universe on how well it managed to prove her wrong.

Because in all her so well thought up scenarios, she had not even once considered the follow:

_So, what if..._

_The actual ceiling cracked with the exposition to the heat, causing the whole structure to start collapsing right above the freaked out asian eyes of your sweetheart of an assistant. What if all of those years of muay thai and karate training - and those memorable private classes with Deputy Parrish from her hometown - made her instincts way quicker than those of most people? What if her only choice was really to jump on her assistant from the little stage she was giving the interview on? Then of course she would take the girl from under the mayhem just in time. And of course her v neck dress would follow gravity right to the floor._

_And of course there would be a reporter with a camera ready._

What happened next was total chaos.

From people pulling and pushing and her mother's hand coming to pull at her arms, to reporters yelling questions, and somewhere throughout the haze she could actually see the camera guy furring his eyebrows, zooming in on his work just to instantly start screaming: “SHE HAS A MARK. I GOT IT RIGHT HERE. LYDIA MARTIN HAS A SOULMATE.”

Well, wouldn’t that make a lovely headline?

* * *

  

  

 

 

 

* * *

 

Stiles considered himself a perceptive guy. Truly.

But among the hangover and the surprise quiz - which he was pretty sure he had aced, thank you very much -, to Professor Richards calm eyes locked on him the entire time, he might have been a bit out of his game this morning.

That changed the second he got a break from classes long enough to reach the closest coffee car in the campus. Stiles actually moaned when the hot liquid went down his throat. A few pair of eyes went to his direction but he couldn’t care less. Coffee was truly a magical thing.

“What's a magical thing?”

Stiles eyes snapped to those of his best friend, coming behind him to pat his shoulder lightly. He stared at the coffee in his hands, not even sure if he had said that out loud or Scott was now simply able to read his mind. Wouldn’t surprise him. 

Shrugging, he raised the paper cup in a toast to his best friend, who only smiled in return. “Coffee, my friend, coffee is the best thing humanity has created.” he remarked loudly.

Scott laughed openly at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And here I thought that title belonged to Lydia Martin.”

Stiles eyes glassed over.

_Lydia Martin_.

God damned him if Stiles could even remember when his celebrity crush had began. It felt to him as if Lydia Martin was part of his thoughts since he was able to decide what thoughts were. He wasn’t even sure what was it about her. Sure the strawberry blond hair, the gorgeous green eyes, the curvy body and witty mouth all amounted to a remarkable figure, but there was something more about her. Something about how her shoulders would straighten when reporters asked something specially dumb. How her eyes narrowed as she seemed to always be one step ahed of any question thrown at her.

Something that told him she was smart, yes, but honestly, that she was different.

“Oh yeah, right after her.” Stiles mused, taking another sip of his coffee than proceeding to stare at it as if Lydia Martin would suddenly come out of it.

“Did she win yesterday, by the way? I couldn’t really...” Scott started but Stiles eyes widened at that.

“HOLY SHIT DUDE I COMPLETELY FORGOT.” he flailed his arm profusely as if to try and show Scott how much of a sin that had been. “GET ME YOUR PHONE. NO, GET ME MY PHONE. I MEAN, I’ll take my phone, gee, is on me anyway...”

“Stiles, breath.” Scott said, trying to sound embarrassed, but really just failing and laughing thoroughly when Stiles almost dropped his phone in his haste to get it out of his pocket.

“OH MY GOD!” a new shriek dominated the campus for a second and Stiles had to double check to make sure it hadn’t come from him.

It hadn’t.

And now of course he had in fact dropped his phone. Great. It was brand new.

Stiles raised his eyes long enough to make sure the girl wasn’t being attacked by some creature from hell – sadly no, she was just staring at her iphone, looking slack jacked – and then proceeded to retrieve his own phone from the floor.

Thank god it hadn’t rained lately, Stiles didn’t think this phone could handle humidity at all. He wasn’t sure it could handle anything really. It was a brandless thingy he wasn’t sure was one, legal, and two, an actual cellphone instead of a transformer. But Stiles had gotten a good deal on it from a guy from a bar one day and hey, he needed the internet and didn’t have the money. A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.

At this point, he was actually delaying to turn it in his hand and find out if the screen was cracked or not, when Scott’s wholehearted “SHIT” took his attention away from the phone.

Scott rarely cursed. Stiles didn’t like it. It made him fell antsy.

He went to check on his friend and found him beside the girl – he had gone to check on her, _of course he had_ –, looking at her iphone screen in awe.

“What?” Stiles pocketed his own phone without actually checking the screen and ran to his friend.

Brown widened eyes found him and Stiles was beginning to feel a bit anxious now.

“What?” he repeated, getting closer to the pair of them.

“Dude...” Scott said lamely, unceremoniously taking the iphone from the girl's hands and carefully giving it to Stiles.

Stiles took the iphone, his interest peeking when the photo of a familiar redhead ( _strawberry blond_ , he mentally corrected himself) flashed at him from the screen. He dragged his eyes across the headline and he could feel his mouth hanging open.

 

**WHO’S THE LUCKY ONE? LYDIA MARTIN HAS A SOULMATE**

**_She is also a hero, but hey! look at the mark!_ read more **

 

_Well, there you go_ , Stiles thought. _You go random person. You’re the luckiest shit alive_.

Also, hero? He read through the first paragraphs of the article, learning about the accident ( _wtf oscars_ ), how she had actually saved someones life ( _of course she did_ ), that she was perfectly fine, not a scratch - relief filled in at that and Stiles refused to think too much about it - and that in the end she hadn’t won any oscars really, but got a stand up ovation anyway.

He raised his eyes from the iphone when he felt Scott’s almost making a whole into his forehead and found his best friend hesitantly shifting in his feet.

Stiles raised his eyebrow and took another look at the iphone on his hands. Scott really thought he was _this_  immature? Clearly he had to lay off the creep game. He was fine.

“So she has a mark.” he concluded with an easy smile. “What about it? It’s not like I had any chance to begin with... it’s just a celebrity crush, dude, it’s fine”.

Scott kept staring at him though, his expression turning into confusion way too quickly.  

“Dude, are you sure you had enough caffeine?” Scott asked, staring at the girl beside him with a knowing smile like she knew why that was an important question to ask. She just stared back at him, then at her iphone on Stiles' hand, probably wondering if she should call the cops. “Look.at.the.picture.” he enunciated when Stiles didn’t seem to get it.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but obeyed anyway. _Oh he had looked at it_. At every single detail of it, mind you, it’s not everyday Lydia Martins on a fancy gown appears to you in a crappy monday morning.

He threw his eyes back to it though, trying to see what he had missed. She was hunched over an asian girl, looking downright pissed off as pieces of wood were splattered across the floor inches behind them. The photo was edited so a red circle emphasized the place where her mark stood just over her right brea...

_HOLY MOTHER OF JESUS AND JOSEPH AND ALL THAT IS SACRED IN THIS WORLD WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT_

Stiles mind reeled but somewhere in his conscience he could feel he hadn’t moved an inch. Scott's shadow reached him before his friend's voice.

“It’s from afar so maybe it isn’t exactly like...”

Stiles shook himself out of his stupor dragging his finger through the touchscreen, his eyes searched the article until the expected blow out picture of the mark showed up.

There it was, a little but evident circle, surrounded by two other circles. Stiles actually counted the lines because maybe it was just too similar... but no.

He had looked at himself enough times in the mirror. He had grazed his fingers over it, wondering where the hell the other mark was. If it would be a nice person, if he would ever find them, if they would have it in the same place as him. But he never... he had never... he thought...

“Scotty...”

Scott’s hand was on his shoulder instantly. “What?”

“I think I might still be drunk.” Stiles croaked, checking his surroundings, maybe this was a crazy dream.

“Pretty sure you’re not.“ Scott answered carefully, as if talking to a child.

“All right...” he nodded to himself. “Then you better get this iphone out of my hand before I drop it, 'cause I’m about to pass out and I think that girl will actually cry – or kill me – or us, kill us."

Scott did as he was told, profusely apologizing to the girl, and then coming back to Stiles.

“What now?” he asked, hand back on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Home. Take me home”

Scott didn’t argued. And really Stiles loved him so much in that moment he could kiss him. If this wasn’t a dream of course. Or if he could move at all.

Crazy dream this was. Stiles needed sleep. To get out of the dream.

_This Monday though._

* * *

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Twitter is about to go down again. I can feel it.” Kira scrolled through her laptop absentminded. “Gotta be a new record.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow from behind her pack of ice cream, but only slightly. That was... _something_. She settled deeper into her mattress and watched the back of Kira’s head with a purpose. Purpose that of making her stop looking through twitter by sheer force of will. Lydia failed.

“There’s about a hundred thousand people saying they have the mark.” Kira mentioned, face supported on her left hand. “Stupid people.”

“That’s not news.” Lydia murmured.

“The faking the mark part or the stupidity part?”

“Both”

“Those are you’re fans you’re talking about”

And the universe knew Lydia loved them, but honestly how could they be so overbearing with something so private?

“They mean well, you know.” Kira went on, when Lydia didn’t answer her immediately. “Most of them anyway. They’re trying to find your soulmate, isn’t that nice?”

Lydia grunted and went deeper still into her mattress. No, it wasn’t nice.

The thing was: Lydia fucking hated that mark.

She couldn’t even count the amount of boyfriends that had broken up with her because of it. As if it meant _something._ Her destined-to-be other half could easily be a very old person, a dog, god knows, maybe even dead. It didn’t really mean anything. Most people ended up never finding their soulmates. It was stupid and honestly Lydia was right about done with it.

She had gone all the way to writte an oficial statement, asking people to leave it alone, but of course they didn’t. Because they thought they were _helping_.

“Oh you’re gonna love this one.” Kira exclaimed. “He’s a motorcycle driver. Says he has the mark. Picture to prove it.”, she hummed appreciatively. “Proves a lot this picture.”

“You can fake the mark for a picture.” Lydia stated, but curiosity was beating her and she was already leaving her pack of ice cream behind, hesitantly raising her head to the screen. She tried to be discreet as she inched closer, but Kira moved the second her mattress switched.

Girl knew her too well.

“Who cares about the mark? Look at the abs, girl!” Kira balanced the laptop on her knees so both of them could look at the screen.

Lydia did. And well... _congrats were in order._

She stared at the mark in his right arm, across his shoulder, where he could have easily photoshopped it.

“And!” Kira clicked another link, as Lydia dragged her eyes away from the perfect toned abs. “He has a twin!”

“What?!” her eyes widened as she stared at the picture of both men posing with their shirts off showing their matching abs and marks. “They’re seriously trying to sell a two-for-one package deal?”

“Sounds like a good deal to me” Kira stated in all seriousness.

Lydia pushed her shoulders lightly, but the girl was already laughing.

Lydia couldn’t help but smile. She had picked out Kira herself to be her PA. Her mother never agreed to the choice and maybe that alone marked a relevant percentage on why Lydia had done it in the first place. Still, it had been the perfect choice.

Kira was sweet whereas her mother wasn’t, but she was also very bright, competent, and had a killer stare that really helped with reporters. And above all, Kira was trustworthy. Which was why she was seated on Lydia's bed, getting a first roll view to Lydia Martin with no make up on, flannel pijamas and messed up hair.

She was probably the only one that ever had, or ever would.

“Who else?” Lydia asked, now leaving behind all pretence of not being interested.

Kira stared at her with a knowing smile. Lydia stared right back. “What? If I have to suffer through it, at least make it fun”

Kira only hummed in agreement, but made it insufferable of course. Her eyes were on the screen though, so Lydia let it be.

“There’s a girl saying her sister has it.”

“Her sister could have asked her to do so” Lydia said easily.

“Considering the fact that her sister url reads @lydshot I’d have to agree.”

Lydia rolled her eyes... _teenagers_.

“Look! This one is stylish... that’s always nice.”

Lydia stared at the curly haired guy, with killer physic and a scarf. She scruched her nose.

“Where’s the mark?”

“I don’t think he thought it would be necessary to show it. Apparently is in a...” Kira coughed at that.

_Secret place._ Lydia laid back on her bed with a thump, throwing her arms up as she did it. She could hear Kira's laugh dominating her room.

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore.” she muttered defeated.

“Oh c’mon, it’s funny... here! This girl is saying her classmate might have it.” Kira encouraged, trying to swallow her laugh, but failing by a long mile. “But she’s not sure because he’s never in class” she turned her head to Lydia at that, winking at her. “Sounds like a catch”

“ _He’s in highschool?_ ” Lydia shuddered

“Oh god no... can you imagine that?” Kira said, eyes back to the laptop screen. “Apparently he goes to Harvard”.

Lydia raised herself slightly from the bed, supporting her body on her elbows and tilting her head. _That wouldn’t be too bad_ , she thought. “So, a nerd.”

“Pretty much... sounds exactly like your soulmate to me.” Kira answered matter-of-factly.

Lydia did not dignify that with an answer.

“Who else?” she chose to reply instead.

“This guy named Peter. Crazy v neck. Says the mark is on his... oh look, twitter is down again.”

Lydia wasn’t even upset.


	2. Twitter Crash #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s him.” Lydia said simply, not sure how to feel about it. 
> 
> “He’s hot.” Danny pointed out the obvious.
> 
> The guy was hot. 
> 
> He had a nice hight, well-defined shoulders that could be seen by the way his Henley shirt hugged his body. His skin was maybe two shades too dark to be a tan and he had a slightly uneven jaw that actually added to his charm. But more importantly, when he turned to look at Kira, his eyes were surprised but soft and Lydia could see that she would like him no matter what
> 
> – maybe that’s all it meant to have a soulmate after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got reviews, was not expecting that!!! Thank you all so much! I'm so happy :D :D  
> And yes, as one of you mentioned this story is totally inspired by Pendragons Dragonlord's amazing fic "It's Nice to Finally Tweet You". I put it in the description and all. If you're a Merlin fan you should definitely check that out. If you're not, honestly I have no idea what you're doing with your life (probably being happy and not having your soul crushed and all but still...). Go watch Merlin, people!

“I think he might be upset.” the voice came to him from behind the thin walls of his bedroom.

"No shit." Jackson sassed, somewhere in the kitchen. "Hey, but don't go and get any ideas too fast, Mccall, he might only be hibernating the past five fucking days he's been in his room."

Stiles burrowed his face deeper into his pillow, desperately trying to muffle the sound of his ~~friends~~ friend _and_ _roommate_  talking, as Scott seemingly ignored the jab and kept pacing around in his own bedroom. “No, _of course_ he's been out of the room. He still has to eat and all, I mean... yes, yes, I KNOW.”

The sound of the front door being locked and the lack of answers made Stiles realize Scott was probably on the phone. Which could only mean one thing: Allison was on her way.  _Ugh_.

“Sure, I’ll try, but you haven’t seen him, Allison." _Jackpoint_. "He’ll bite my head off for sure.”

Honestly, did Scott really never bother to notice how thin the walls were? Or was he just choosing to be in denial right about now?

“I know... all right...”, the voice suddenly turned into a whisper as his friend seemed to be reaching Stiles' bedroom door. _Nice played, Scotty, how incredibly perceptive of you_. “Yes, I’ll try, but come anyway, we need all hands on deck. Okay. Love you too. No, _you_  hang up...”

His groan must have reached the living room, because Scott rushed his goodbye at once. A soft knock on his door followed.

“Stiles? _Dude_?”

Stiles considered not answering, he could still pretend to be asleep. Scott wouldn’t buy it for a second, but he would get the idea and let it go.

Still, it had been five days, so maybe it was time.

“It’s not locked.” he heard himself answering before any actual decision was registered by his mind.

The sound of the door cracking open reached him as Scott got in. Stiles opened one of his eyes and tried to see through the darkness in his room. Scott was wearing a Henley shirt and his best Jeans, which meant he was probably ready to go out with Allison and had given up in the last minute.

For Stiles.

That thought alone made him sum up forces to slowly sit on his bed and appreciate his best friend a bit more.

“I’m fine.” Stiles found himself mumbling before Scott had a chance to open his mouth.

His friend only nodded and went on to push the curtains open. The sudden light caused Stiles to groan and drop himself back on the bed, dragging his right arm up to cover his eyes. A soft laugh echoed across the room as Scott went to lean on the study table - only he took one look at the pictures above it and moved instantly as if it had burnt him.

“What the hell, man?!”, he pointed at the piles of pictures of deceased bodies, among other evidence, and frowned. “I thought you'd laid off your dad’s cases for college at least.”

Stiles blinked his eyes behind his arm, trying to adjust to the new light. “Just this one. Tough one. Old man’s going insane over it.” Once he realised Scott was staring disapprovingly at him, he added: “It’s fine. It actually helps take my mind of... _stuff._ ” his voice lowered at the last word and his friend's eyes immediately went to the floor.

Silence was the only happening on the room for a moment, as Scott figured out what to say next and Stiles contemplated when exactly looking at mutilated bodies had become a relief over thinking about Lydia Martin.

Eventually one of them had to crack and it was obviously going to be Stiles. He had never really been able to handle stillness.

“We’ll have to talk about it eventually, so... go ahead.” he gestured with his hand for Scott to talk, but his friend only shook his head lightly, then tilted it a bit.

He waited before coming up with something to say and Stiles could only hear the sound of his own feet thumping against the floor for awhile. Eventually Scott sighed, making Stiles' eyes snap back at him.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what to say, this is just crazy." he hesitated, taking his time to sit at the end of Stiles’ bed. "I guess...”

“I guess...?” Stiles encouraged him.

“Well... I guess I don't know... I don't know why this is a problem.” Scott asked and Stiles was left lost for words for like, _maybe_ , the second time in his life.

Because, wasn’t that the question of the day?

He had himself thought the person who had the mark would be crazy lucky, before finding out it was... well... _him_. So his soulmate was a hot, intelligent, rich and successful woman he already pretty much had a crush on. And as a result he was hiding in his room, analysing murder cases. _Logic, where art thou?_

“I don’t know.” he answered flatly and Scott's eyebrow almost reached his hairline. 

 _I don't know_ wasn't usually part of Stiles' vocabulary. _Maybe's_ and _What if's_ were easily among his best friends, but not knowing something creeped out Stiles more than anything. So much for his friend's sanity and his own, Stiles forced his mind to change into analytical mode.

“Maybe it’s about control, you know?” he hypothesised and was glad to notice his voice gain some of its usual sharpness back. “I’ve always been a control freak... maybe it’s about not being able to control who I’m supposed to be with.”

Scott frowned at that. “Well, it’s not mandatory to be with her, you know.”

“Or _maybe..._ " Stiles pressed on. "It’s because I’m afraid I’ll be disappointed. I’ve had this crush for a while, maybe she’s not all that...”

“I’m sure she is, if she’s your soulmate.”

“ _Maybe_ it’s about the publicity of it all! Being in the media must be exhausting.”

“Since when exactly have you ever minded attention, Stiles?”

“Or _maybe_ is because I don’t think I even deserve to have this kind of luck, you know? I mean, after Donov...” that’s when Stiles stopped himself, because _maybe_ he had gotten way too close to being right.

Not even Scott had anything to say to that, and not for the lack of trying. He opened his mouth at least five times before giving up with a sigh. Stiles tried to come up with something of his own if only to fill the silence his words had caused.

“Hi Allison.” he chose to greet, not even raising his eyes from his hands. 

Allison, because she was who she was, wasn’t even caught by surprise by his mention of her. She only smiled by her place at the door.

Scott almost fell off the bed though.

“ _When did you even...?_ ” his friend stammered, adjusting himself on the mattress.

Allison calmly walked a few steps to kiss her boyfriend’s forehead - and left him smiling stupidly at that,  _these two -_  and then went to kneel on the carpet beside Stiles' knee. She rested a hand on one of his, making he drag his eyes to her.

“Or _maybe_... it’s simply all of the above.” she suggested softly. “It doesn’t need to be for a good reason, Stiles. If you want to mop on your room 'till the end of the days for being a lucky bastard, it’s a right you have.”

Honestly, thanks to whoever in the universe decided to put Allison Argent on Scott’s path.

Stiles nodded at her, slightly conformed, but then remembered: “Well, actually... not really, because I have Biology today and I really can’t afford miss anymore classes.”

“Oh please, give Scott your ID card. He’ll go in and swipe it for you”, she said simply as if he was the biggest idiot to ever walk the earth. And maybe he was. Or at least a close second because _Jackson_. “Everyone does it... so there, problem solved. Love me.” Allison dimpled at him.

“Pretty sure Scott is a goner for a while now.” Stiles replied making her smile grow, than she stopped to pout at him. Eventually he cracked. “Yeah, yeah... you’re all kinds of amazing. Go pose for a statue.”

Allison punched the air victoriously, making both the guys laugh. Then she raised a finger to Stiles' face.

“ _But_... at least get some air, will you?”, she dragged her eyes through his mess of room, scrunching up her nose.

“Hey! What happened to it’s my party and I’ll mop if I want to?” Stiles complained, but his voice lacked heat.

“Honestly, your party smells like burnt eggs.”

“That would be Scott’s thinking”, Stiles replied in all seriousness, pointing at his friend's frown.

Allison chuckled, getting up from her place on the carpet and swiping his ID card from its place on the nightstand.

“Hey, I’m taking a class for your sorry ass!” Scott protested, but it soon died down when Allison captured his hand with hers, easily raising him from the bed.

“Don’t be such a _baby_. Biology is like your second home, you’d probably be a more participant student then Stiles could ever or would ever really..."

"Yo, don't you dare taint my _I don't give a fuck_  reputation, Scotty, I worked hard for that." Stiles called out.

"He'll try his best." Allison answered and, at the look her boyfriend gave her, added: "Look, it's piece of cake, I'll go with you.”, then, almost as a second thought, she turned back to Stiles: “Don’t forget: AIR. Good for lungs. _Go_.”

Stiles nodded and it wasn’t until they had long left that he realised how much the knot inside his stomach had loosen.

* * *

 

“Scott, it’s not the FBI.”

“No, but some of them are  _the soon to_ _be_ FBI”

Allison had to laugh at her boyfriend's antiques. They were standing at the hallway of the university and Scott was trying to get ready to go, as he put, _incognito_.

“Would it be suspicious if I acted completely unsuspiciously?” Scott asked in all seriousness.

“I don’t know." she answered in likeness. "Especially since I have no idea what you just said.”

Scott frowned, probably trying to remember what he had just said.

“I mean...” he tried again. “Should I try to make myself invisible? Wouldn't that attract _more_  attention? Should I make conversation? Should I ask questions? Should I...?”

“ _Scott_.” Allison placed both her hands on his shoulders. “Get in. Swipe the card. Get out.”

His face relaxed instantly. “ _Oh_ , I don’t need to stay.”

“Only if you keep talking to me and the professor gets here”

“ _Shit._ ”

Allison had to laugh when he still didn't move. Scott's eyes were desperate. “Can’t _you_ do it?”

“Honestly, Scott.”

“Well, can't you? I mean, you know I'm no good in this sort of stuff." his eyes widened. "What if someone see me leaving after I swiped it? What if someone _recognises_  me?! Allison, what if someone asks me...”

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Stilinski?”

Allison and Scott turned their heads in unison at the asian girl standing in front of them, her eyes were locked on the ID card hanging from Scott's neck.

Scott stared at Allison in panic. She stared right back at him, desperately trying to communicate that whatever happened, he shouldn’t say...

“Yeah... _uh_... yes, sure. That’s me.”

The girl smiled sweetly and Allison fought the urge to roll her eyes.

This probably wasn’t a good idea.

* * *

 

“Listen up! I have a great idea.” Kira boomed as she invaded Lydia's dressing room, shutting the door behind her with a loud _thunk_.

As an appropriate response, Lydia didn’t move an inch from her place in front of the mirror, adjusting her braid on her shoulder.

Apparently Kira took her silence as a sign of approval though, because she went on: “We’re a going to hire someone to go undercover and find your soulmate for you.”

Lydia almost dropped her Channel perfume at that, so the look she gave Kira was downright murderous. “What?” she questioned as menacingly as possible.

Kira's perfect smile didn't even cracked. She was clearly too proud of herself to even realize Lydia was not on board, _SO_ not on board.

“We are going to hire someone to go...”

“I heard.”

“You said ' _what'._ ”

“I was questioning myself. For some reason I thought I had hired a brilliant Columbia alumni as my PA, but that would be strange since I have standing behind me Lindsay Lohan in Parent Trap.”

Kira actually took some time to evaluate that answer as if she was considering if it was offensive or not. In the end, it seemed to be the latter.

“In a way, I guess.” she relented very serious, and then proceeded to jump up and down like she was a four year old. Lydia fought the urge to drop her forehead to the mirror. “Oh c’mon it’s the perfect plan! We are going to select twenty of the most viable options... no twins, no v necks, I swear.”

Lydia went back to stare at her reflection, looking hard for something to fix. Anything that could block Kira's incessant blabbering. “And then said hired person will go and evaluate them. As soon as we decide who’s the best option and that it’s all fine, safe and all, you go and meet them yourself.” Kira paused at that, as if waiting for the brilliance of her plan to reach Lydia.

It did not.

“That is possibly the worse plan I've ever heard.” Lydia stated sweetly, as she found a misplaced hair on her right eyebrow to concentrate on. Then her mind - only because it was way too used to it and surely not because she was considering this ridiculous plan for a second - started to think about the idea. “How are we suppose to know the mark is even real?”

Kira smiled and Lydia realised she was expecting the question. “We ask then to wash it. Even if it’s a tattoo, it's soul mark rule, if it’s fake it will wash away.”

“You'll be surprise to know I'm aware of soul mark's rules. I meant, what if it's more complicated than that ? What if it’s at a  _private_ place?" she mocked, remembering that one tweet. "Who’s going to ask people to take their pants off?”

“Yes, I thought about that too.” Kira now looked impossibly pleased with herself and Lydia just really wanted to punch her. So instead, she kept aggressively plucking at her eyebrow. “The picture they took... it’s bad quality, it missed that little dot.”

Lydia looked down instinctively. Yes, the central circle had a dot that probably could not be seen on the picture’s resolution. How she had missed that was beyond her. It was such a minor detail though, so small that this could actually... she plucked another hair off.

“So we ask for a picture and if it’s a fake it won’t have the dot.” Kira smiled clearly satisfied.

Lydia wasn’t.

“Why would I trust someone to do it for me?”

“Because you can’t go around knocking on doors, checking people's marks." Kira reasoned. "That’s exactly what some of them want.”

“Right, but what if I don’t like...”

“Danny could set up a pair of camera glasses, you’d be able to watch everything and tell when to proceed and when to call it a day.”

“But how are we going to decide who...”

“Danny is running a search right about now. He says he’ll be done by tomorrow with twenty names.”

“But there are thousands of twee...”

“If none of the twenty are it, we could just keep moving down the list 'til...”

“The rest of our lives.” Lydia completed impatiently.

Kira rolled her eyes, and really, apparently she was  _paying_  someone to be a brat to her.

“ _C’mon_ Lydia, I know you want to. You’ll just have to watch the ones that are highly likely or _it_. If you don’t feel like it, maybe just fast forward the recording later.” Kira took a few hesitant steps, before placing a careful hand on Lydia's right shoulder. “I am trying to help. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? For that to end finally?”

It would. It would be crazy nice.

The dressing-room door opened suddenly to reveal her mother. The woman glanced at both of them suspiciously, but didn't take a step into the room, looming at corridor, cellphone firmly in her hands as if it was glued in place. “Jimmy Fallon wants to talk to you before the interview. Five minutes, okay?” she stated, disappearing without a second look.

Lydia stared at her reflection in the mirror once more. Maybe she was going crazy, because somehow she was already in before she had even considered to not be totally out.

“Fine.”

Kira jumped victoriously behind her.

“But no hiring anyone. You’ll do it.”

Kira almost fell on her butt.

Well, she only had herself to blame. 

* * *

 

And that had been basically how Lydia ended up two days later, sitting on her couch, in her living room, with her best friend by her side typing non-stop at his laptop and explaining to her in minor details how he had put his entire agency to work on this case and how it was full proof and that the right person was surely among the twenty selected and she was... _mostly_   _no longer paying attention_. But that was fine. Because she could trust Danny with her life.

He was the only friend she still had from high school. The only one who had never wavered faced with her fame, never treated her differently because of it, the only person to call her and ask how she was on the day of the **The Tragedy,** instead of talking about the damned mark.

On the other side of the screen a fidgeting Kira was repeating she _so could not do it_ about five times a minute and going on to do it again the minute later.

Lydia hadn’t watch all the encounters so far - she had stuff to do as a famous actress, thank you very much -, but this was the next to last candidate and she had some time today and Kira had gone to Harvard to see him... and they had great ceilings at Harvard, so why not?

“Guys, this time is for real, I cannot do it.” Kira’s voice came through the mic hidden under her shirt and Lydia and Danny rolled their eyes in unison.

“We know it, sweetheart. Now go ahead and do it.” Danny was the one to reply, as Lydia was fishing for the pack of ice cream beside her on the couch. She would needed it if the other encounters recorded were any indication.

Danny had to call the police on one of them. Blonde guy with a leather jacket who would not take no for an answer, even when his tattoo washed right off in front of Kira's eyes.

_Creep._

That was maybe another reason why this time Lydia was watching it live, it was one way to keep tabs on Kira’s safety – not that she would ever admit that.

“He is suppose to be in the next class, according to the source.” Danny said professionally, reading off his laptop screen. “Go ahead and look for him. I gathered his surname is Stilinski.”

_What kind of name was that anyway?_

“Sure, but how will I find him?” Kira voice echoed through Lydia's living room, coming from her flat-screen TV.

“Search for his name tag. They have those in Harvard, right?” she found herself answering without meaning to. One of the downfalls of geniusness - the constant need to solve the problem at hand.

“Yes.. _yes_ , they do.” Kira answered, the camera angling towards a girl's ID card hanging for her neck.

Danny looked at Lydia approvingly.

“You’re good at this.” he stated.

“I’m good at everything.”

“There’s that.”

They kept silence for awhile, trying and helping Kira to check out all the name cards, until finally she came at a stop. The camera revealed a guy being held by his shoulders by a pretty brunette.

Before Kira could say anything, Lydia could already read the name tag.

“It’s him.” she said simply, not sure how to feel about it.

It was strange watching this live. Not knowing that this had been a failure. Lydia wasn’t sure she like it at all.

“He’s hot.” Danny pointed out the obvious.

The guy was hot.

He had a nice hight, well-defined shoulders that could be seen by the way his Henley shirt hugged his body. His skin was maybe two shades too dark to be a tan and he had a slightly uneven jaw that actually added to his charm. But more importantly, when he turned to look at Kira, his eyes were surprised but soft and Lydia could see that she would like him no matter what – maybe that’s all it meant to have a soulmate after all.

She watched him exchanging looks with the brunette holding his shoulders and something about the intimacy of the look told her they weren’t just friends. And that would make perfectly sense, because that would be a reason why this guy was one of the few who didn’t nominated themselves as the lucky one. If he had a girlfriend, it might be logical to abstain from it. Weirdly enough the idea didn’t bother Lydia in the slightest. It actually made feel some sort of relief.

“That’s me.”

Lydia heard his answer even though she hadn’t been paying attention to the question Kira had asked.

“ _Oh_.” Kira’s voice came through the mic and Lydia smiled. She knew that tone.

“Kira, do not develop a crush on my soulmate.” she said it as a threat, but her voice lacked heat.

“Don’t say that, she’ll be more nervous.” Danny reprimanded her.

But Kira didn't seem to have heard Lydia at all, she was on a roll: “Can I talk to you somewhere... _uh_... private?”

Stilinski stared at the brunette again and back at Kira.

“Sorry, I have class.” he answered politely.

“Oh... yes, I know.” Kira started laughing and the brunette’s eyes narrowed. She seemingly caught on pretty quickly, but made no obvious move, only taking her hands from Stilinski’s shoulder and holding one of his hands with her own.

 _Smooth_. Lydia liked her. Which was a weird thing to say about your soulmate’s girlfriend, but still.

Kira seemed to notice the movement as well, because her laughter got even more nervous.

“Oh god, nothing like... _that._ You can miss your class, I mean, I’ve talked to your teacher. It’s about a... _uh_... business proposition.” she managed.

Stilinski nodded, clearly not sure on what to do. So the girlfriend took over.

“I’m Allison.” she declared, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Kira took the hand being offered with ease.

“Maybe we could go to his apartment? It’s just around the block.”

Stilinski nodded again, apparently ready to follow anything Allison said. Lydia didn’t judge him, the girl had a leader quality to her voice hard not to submit to. Kira seemed to agree, since she accepted the offer.

They walked in silence for awhile. Stilinski all polite, oppening doors and asking about the weather and honestly, maybe Lydia's soulmate would be just a very close friend, that really wasn’t the worst case scenario.

“He seems... _nice_.” Danny managed.

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Oh don’t fret. We’re not even sure it’s him.” she tried to sound casual, but Danny’s eyes told her he knew better.

By the time they got to the building, Lydia was sure every person in the entire planet was already half in love with Stilinski. Even the cleaning laid had thrown a smile at him as they went through the apartment's hallway. He asked about her three children and thanked her profusely for some cake she apparently had baked for him the night before or something. 

“You are such a sweetheart.” she said, patting his cheek and smiling at Allison. “You got lucky with this one. Now about that roommate of yours... _Stiles_ is it...?”

Allison and Stilinski both froze instantly.

“.. was all offended because I tried to clean that mess on his table, and that board! That thing is asking to be thrown away.” the woman ranted, as Stilinski got out of his apparent shock and started massaging his temples.

“Sorry for him, he’s a bit weird when it comes to his room.” he tried, with a patience in his voice Lydia thought she had never managed in her life. And she was an _actress_.

“Yes! I told him I was just trying to help him and he said... honestly, how rude... he said I should just HELP MYSELF OUT.”

Lydia didn’t even realize she was laughing before she heard it echoing across her living room. Danny looked at her with a smile of his own.

Allison seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face herself, but Stilinski didn’t even flinch and something on the slouch of his shoulders told Lydia he was more than used to this kind of situation.

“I apologize again, really, just don’t go into his room and it should be fine.” he said in the same pacifying tone of voice. “Thank you again for the cake, I’ll talk to him... I swear.”

The woman seemed to calmer by the tenth time Stilinski repeated his apology and assured her he would talk to his friend. They said goodbye and Stilinski directed Kira to his apartment and then room without a spare look at the kitchen.

He suddenly looked like he was on a hurry.

“Maybe he has an appointment after this?” Danny suggested, seemingly reading Lydia’s mind.

“Maybe.”

When they finally got to his room - it was reasonably clean, Lydia was impressed -, Kira might have sensed it too, because she didn’t beat around the bush.

“My name is Kira Yukimura. I represent actress Lydia Martin.” Lydia watched as Stilinski’s face went from politeness to complete shock and she could already tell he  _knew_  exactly what that meant. She felt something in her stomach clenching. “We’ve been looking for you, Mr. Stilinski, because two classmates of yours said they saw Miss Martin's matching soul mark on you and we wanted to assure the veracity of it. If you would be so kind to allow us, of course.”

Stilinski blanched, his eyes turning to his girlfriend immediately and Lydia could see why it would. If she had a boyfriend, he probably wouldn’t be so happy about the soulmate thing either. But Allison did not look angry at all, she just looked... _calculating_?

He turned back to Kira. “Look, _uh_... Kira. I’m sorry, but I...”

“He needs to speak to me privately” Allison interrupted calmly. “I'm sure you can understand why.”

“ _Yes_! Yes, of course, go ahead.” Kira hurried to say.

They both left Kira to bite on her nails and went to the kitchen. After a while Lydia could hear the apartment's main door closing somewhere. 

_They were really worried about their privacy, huh?_

“Well, this is going fine...” Lydia commented.

“I’m so sorry, Lydia, if it’s him, he’s already...” Kira started, voice anxious.

“Oh _relax_... I think you are more upset about his girlfriend than I am. You can be close to someone without being in love, you know.” to Danny’s skeptical eyes, she added: “Also, his girlfriend is hot, maybe we can menáge”.

Kira coughed at that, while Danny laughed, throwing his head back. “That would be a brilliant headline.”

“Shut up.” Lydia muttered, but she was smiling. “Also, maybe it’s not even him.”

“I hardly think he would be the kind to lie about something so serious” Kira defended instantly.

“Danny, Kira is in love with my soulmate, tell her to stop.”

Danny’s laugh drowned the sound of Kira babble of denial and Lydia found herself strangely comfortable with this situation. Who said finding your soulmate wasn’t a piece of cake? If Stilinski was truly her soulmate, she'd gotten a friend for life and she could also screw other people. Maybe she would call the twins...

“He’s back.” Kira whispered and Lydia’s attention went back to the TV.

Allison talked first.

“He has it.” she stated simply. “The mark.” 

“Oh... that’s great! Can I see it?” Kira replied.

“No, it’s at a... private place.” Allison added to Stilinski furious blush.

“Right...” Lydia was proud Kira managed to keep her voice consistent. “So, maybe a picture?”

Stilinski blushed even further.

“I don’t think we have one. I could draw it though, 'seen it enough times” Allison offered with a smile.

She was already taking a piece of paper from Stilinski's study table, when Kira raised a hand to say something.

“It’s all right. Let her.” Lydia commanded.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence, with Stilinski shifting one foot to the other. Lydia could perfectly imagine Kira’s polite smile.

Allison took her time, finally raising the paper a few minutes later. “Here.”

And there it was... dot and everything. Lydia swallowed dry, it was an unfathomable moment and yet, it felt really dull at the same time.

“That’s _perfect_.” Kira declared.

There was only silence again, until Stilinski blurted out a hesitant: “What... what now?”

The camera shook a bit when Kira nodded. “You get to meet her, I suppose. If you want to, I mean.”

Stilinsk's eyes went back to Allison. Lydia held her breath. “ _I_.. I want to.”

Allison smiled softly at him and Lydia’s admiration for the girl knew no bounds at that moment.

“Will she come here or should he...? “ Allison started.

Kira hesitated. So did Lydia. Her mind went straight to her perfectly planned out monthly schedule, trying to figure out how to fit “soulmate encounter” there. She should probably fly he in...

A loud knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Lydia looked at her own door, thinking about her mother and it took her a moment to realize it had come from Stilinski’s bedroom.

“Scott!”

Allison froze. Stilinski just stared at the door, apparently completely at lost on what to do.

“You can answer it if you want to.” Kira informed. “Just don’t mention...”

Stilinski nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

He went to the door, opening it only slightly.

“Hey Stiles.” he said, covering whoever was on the other side from their view.

“Oh you’re dressed, great!” the voice on the other side quipped and Lydia caught herself smiling a bit. “Hi Allison!”

Lydia watched as Allison rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as well.

“Hi Stiles!" she answered loudly enough for the guy on the other side of the door hear it and confirm her presence there. "We’re kind busy here.”

“Busy as in about to get naked or as in studying? 'Cause I wanted to talk to you too.” the voice yelled back.

Allison rolled her eyes again and nodded at Stilinski. He sighed before opening the door.

“So, I was, as you so adamantly put, _out to_   _get some air_  when I ran into... _oh._ ” the so-called Stiles practically barged into the room, stopping on his tracks the second he saw Kira.

Lydia straighten up a bit on her place in the couch. This guy was... _well_... he was something else.

Stiles was perhaps an inch taller than Stilinski, all arms and legs, and freckles splattered across his skin. His red shirt was a rumpled mess and clashed to the point of making Lydia cringe with his flannel pants, he was also sporting what seemed to be the worst case of bed hair in the decade. He wasn't exactly unattractive, but was lanky, pale, unstylish and lacked a good amount of muscles to fall into the category of Lydia's usual type, and yet, there was something about the way his expression quickly transitioned from confused to analytical that made Lydia's curiosity perk anyway.

“I had no idea you guys were into this kind of stuff.” he smiled, only to get Stilinski's elbow crushed against his stomach. He clutched at the spot half heartedly. “Sorry, sorry. _Uh_ , you are?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked intently and straight at Kira, pursing his lips in concentration and Lydia could sense the coming of a stutter.

“I... I...”

“She’s my friend, she’s helping me and Scott with some homework.” Allison replied earnestly.

Stiles looked at Kira, then straight at the camera on her glasses (Lydia froze on the spot), then at Stilinski (apparently Scott?) and Lydia could see he hadn’t bought it for a second. Which was impressive considering Allison was proving to be an excellent liar.

“ _Right_.” he drawled a bit more serious now. "I know a hidden camera when I see one, love."

Scott and Allison threw matching confused looks at Kira. Lydia felt her eyebrow rising. Beside her, Danny took an intake of breath that said he was personally offended that his camera was so easily spotted.

_Curious indeed._

“No, _I_...” she started, but Stiles interrupted her.

“Don’t worry about it, not my problem. Unless...” he turned swiftly to Scott. “Should it be my problem?”

Scott only shook his head. Stiles shrugged.

"'Talk to you guys later then, after... whatever this is.” he gestured broadly at the three of them with his hands and started walking to the door, turning back at the last second. “Nice meeting you, whoever you are.” then he stared at the camera again, this time actually cracking a knowing smile and Lydia’s stomach suddenly felt very uncomfortable. “Also, you. Hope the spying has been gratifying.”

And then he was gone.

And so was Lydia's train of thought.

Scott and Allison only stared at Kira.

“I need to film it so she can decide if she wants to meet you or not. I’m sorry.” she was quick to explain. "I can't use any of it without your authorization."

Scott seemed to instantly forgive her, Allison only snorted.

“And what’s the verdict?” she asked.

“I’ll go there.” Lydia found herself stating. She could feel Danny’s eyes boring at the back of her head.

“I guess she’ll come.” Kira said. “We’ll get in touch... _Scott_?”

Scott blanched and Lydia could only imagine it was because he was as nervous to meet her as she was to meet him.

“We only had your surname." Kira explained nervously and he visibly relaxed. "Should have asked before.” 

Kira said her goodbyes to them and it wasn’t until she was almost out of the building that she seemed to understand what had just happened.

“ _You coming here_?!" her shriek echoed across the living room, making Lydia flinch. "How are you coming _here_? When are ou coming _here_? I should just fly him _there_... oh your mother’s gonna kill me.”

“I want him to be in a familiar place, comfortable." Lydia explained simply. "After all this, it's the least I could do.”

Also, if she happened to run into his roommate, she could explain better what had happened, right? He seemed a bit pissed. Also, she would get to find out what his eye color was, the camera didn't show it right.

“I see.” Danny replied flatly and Lydia decided not to talk for a while. Or maybe forever.

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

Stiles was trying to stay away from Twitter. That had been his goal for the entire day. _Stay away from Twitter, Stiles._ So he had gone out for a much needed run.

Running out of pleasure was something he had never considered doing in his first years of High School but had learned was his best choice to handle his anxiety by the time his first SAT test results came in. Now it had become one of the maybe two things he had in common with Jackson - and he planned to keep it at that number.

He ran until he could barely feel his legs anymore and felt it was enough to shake off the desire to check Twitter for a while. Maybe he could work on the case today. Lot of murders to catch and crime scenes to analyze. That would be relaxing.

And that had been the reason Stiles'd gotten to his apartment sweating all over, looking like the messiest mess that ever messed, and, because that’s simply how the universe worked, there was a stranger sitting on one of the stools by his kitchen conter.

 _Not really a stranger_ , Stiles remembered. Just the asian filming girl he had met the other day.

_“She was filming a documentary, Stiles, stop being so paranoid” Allison had stated, convincing him of nothing, but then she had asked about how he was feeling in relation to Lydia Martin and he had forgotten all about asian girls and their fake-ass documentaries._

“Hey Kira, long time no see.” he greeted nonchalantly.

The girl span in her seat, clearly surprised. There were no glasses today.

“So, already done with the documentary?” Stiles tapped the corner of his eye with his indicator finger. Her own eyes widened.

“ _Yeaah_ , yeah. The documentary, right.” she said, and really, she could take some acting classes. Her eyes kept shifting to Scott’s bedroom door.

“What was it about anyway?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible as he went around the counter to open the fridge.

“ _Uh_.. couples in... _college._ ” Kira said, picking at her nails, clearly uncomfortable.

Stiles offered her a cup of water with a gesture of his hands and she accepted it eagerly. After he served her, she took a small sip of it, still staring at Scott’s door.

“Sorry if I was too intense the other day." he offered, still trying to measure her. "It’s been chaotic... this week, I mean.” 

Kira smiled full and innocent. “That’s alright. I gather it was a bit weird.”

“Trust me. I’ve seen worse.” he winked at her, finally deciding that whatever she was doing here, it was probably no threat to Scott. So he let it go. He had enough on his plate already.

Stiles went into his room, only to come back with a pile of files. He splattered it all on the living room carpet, while Kira stared at him as if he was completly out of line.

“You're going to study _here_?” she protested, tapping her fingers against the surface of the conter.

He raised his eyes at her and she blushed instantly.

“It _is_ my apartment.” he answered flatly, then following her eyes to Scott’s door: “Is he on the shower or something?”

“Or something.” she muttered in obvious defeat, forehead coming to hit the conter.

Stiles took one look at the girl, fighting the urge to pry. He concentrated in the case instead, trying hard to forget all about the obvious CIA agent trying to investigate his personal life sitting by his counter, murmuring something about _being so unbelievably fired_. Stiles kept moving the pictures around, searching for patterns ( _maybe she was Allison's friend and was in some sort of trouble),_ taking some notes on the victim's lifestyles ( _she couldn't be Scott's friend, he knew all Scott's friend, the guy had, like, two),_  and cause of death ( _not your problem, Stiles, not your problem_ ). He had been able to keep at least twenty per cent of his attention at the pictures for almost ten solid minutes when Kira’s voice reached him from somewhere around the couch his back was rested on. _The nerve._

“He said you wouldn’t be home.” she stated, sounding tired.

Stiles looked up at her. Kira had sat down on the couch and was now looking at the pictures in horror. Then at him in horror.

“Dad’s a sheriff. I help out. Breath.” he explained like he had done a hundred times before. She did. “Scott said what?”

“That you wouldn’t be home.” she repeated, throwing one last suspicious look at the pictures, before reaching for something in her bag. “I'll need you to sign this for me, please.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is this _?”_

“Confidentiality agreement.” she asserted.

Stiles stared at her for a while. “And why would I need a Conf...”.

They were interrupted when Scott's door finally opened revealing the man himself. He was all smiles, but he's expression faded into absolute panic when he saw Stiles. 

Once, when they were sixteen, Stiles and Scott had been wondering around the forest in Beacon Hills, looking for what Stiles had heard to be a dead body - _as teenagers do_. It had been a full moon, but it still was completely dark and at some point they had obviously gotten lost. They were on their way to try and find the road back home when a bunch of deers had come at them running away from something and Stiles had screamed on the top of his lungs: “BETTER FOLLOW THE DEERS, SCOTT”. They had and eventually found the main road.

Next morning they discovered some kid called Isaac had been bitten by a wolf in the woods and proceeded to disappear after that. From there on, every single time Scott doubted him, Stiles would simply repeat “Follow the deers, Scott” and Scott would trust him and go with whatever he was throwing at him, without questioning it.

So when Scott froze by his door, stared at Stiles in all seriousness and said: “Dude, follow the deers.”, Stiles braced himself.

And it still hadn’t been even close to enough preparation for what was to come, because when Scott liberated the door, from behind him, dressed in a red dress, hair lose on her shoulders, came no one else than

Lydia FUCKING Martin.

_What now?_

* * *

 

Lydia would never admit it out loud, but she was a bit, just a notch, slightly, actually... _nervous_.

She was sure the feeling was mostly a result of the fact she wasn't exactly sure on how to behave in relation to this situation - and not knowing how to do something freaked Lydia out more than anything in this world.

 _What do you even wear to meet your soulmate?_ Something cute? Something sexy? Maybe a bag of potatoes would cut it, considering they have to like you anyway, right?

She had chosen a red dress, that showed no cleavage, a bit of legs, and mostly just made her feel comfortable, because whatever she was wearing would look good anyway - all that time and money spent at the gym had to guarantee her _at least_ that. Also heels, high enough that she knew she wouldn’t be too short in relation to him. That always helped.

The security had been left by the front doors of the building in order to not call more attention than it was necessary. Danny had guaranteed her a complete background search would be done in the name of Scott Stilinski by the end of the day. She could have waited for it to be ready and then go and meet him, but then she would miss her flight and consequently the Graham Norton Show, and she was unusually excited for that interview.

Also Scott was a school grad, not a psycho. So there.

Allison would not be present for the meeting and Lydia was kind of thankful for that. The scenario was embarrassing enough as it was, no need for an audience, especially one that invested.

Kira would be there, obviously. But only to introduce them.

Her mother would be... in Spain, actually. Because Lydia herself had bought the ticket and made up some shitty excuse about an early birthday present and the woman had eaten it up without a second thought - Lydia was a Oscar nominee actress, after all.

All plans made and executed to perfection and she was about to knock the apartment's door. With a ridiculous hat and big-ass sun glasses, trying to go unnoticed on a hallway filled with with absolutely no one but Kira - the levels of paranoia that you developed by making your life in Hollywood could be staggering sometimes.

She wasn’t sure she had to knock or just get in. Lydia looked at Kira in search of answers or maybe hoping the girl would give her an excuse to just run for the hills.

“Oh for crying out loud.” the traitor opened the door unceremoniously instead, gesturing for Lydia to follow her. She did. And ended up right in the center of a reasonably sized apartment, staring at the nervous eyes of Scott Stilinski.

“Hi.” he said, waving lamely with his right hand.

Lydia took the time to take off her hat and sunglasses, trying like crazy to ignore her heart beat racing. She then made use of her best professional smile and offered her hand to him. “Hi back.”

It was ~~incredibly~~ a bit silly, but when he took her hand, she kind of expected something to happen. Anything really. A jolt, a thunder sound, in the distance someone screaming. 

His hands were really warm.

_Lame, universe._

“I gather you two have a lot to talk about.” Kira broke the ice, as Scott let go of Lydia's hand with an unsure smile. 

Lydia wasn't even done composing her witty retort and Kira had already pushed both of them into Scott's bedroom. Lydia watched the door closing with a soft _thump_. “You know, she used to be really polite.” she commented.

“That happens when you get intimate with someone. There goes politeness.” Scott answered from behind her and she realized maybe it was a good idea to acknowledge his presence. She turned to smile at him.

“You probably have some questions.” Lydia considered, and from somewhere outside the bedroom she thought she heard a door opening. Her thoughts weirdly went to the roommate for a fraction of a second. Okay, maybe an entire second. She snapped back to Scott and her sane self quickly enough.

“Only one, really.” Scott was saying, apparently completely unaware of her distraction. Now Lydia was sure she could hear Kira's voice on the living room.

“I’m listening.” she half-lied, as he sat down on his own bed, offering her the chair by his study table. She didn’t take it.

“What do you gain from this?” he asked promptly, almost as if rehearsed. “From me?”

Lydia thought about it for a while, trying to take her mind away from the living room and back to her _soulmate_.

It was a reasonable question. She had lived her life perfectly fine so far. Why would she need a soulmate? Just for the main satisfaction of being culturally appeased? Or maybe it was something deeper, that had to do with the magic behind the whole soulmate ordeal, or maybe it was simply a want, a need, for it to just be...

“I just want it to be over.” Lydia answered and found herself hearing the truth. “My entire life has been one way or another about this stupid mark. When will you meet them? You think you’ll find them? Will you look for them? Are you afraid they’re dead? And so on...”

Scott gave her a knowing smile and she figured he heard it his entire life as well.

"It shouldn’t need to be a big deal, you know? Maybe it’s a dog. Maybe a very old guy” she went on, ~~almost making a hole in his carpet~~ pacing a bit. “Maybe it’s not even romantic at all. It's all a social construct really. Very frail. Very superficial. It _could_ be platonic. Maybe it was my great grandma. Honestly, I really liked her, never saw her naked...”

Lydia stopped mid-rant once Scott’s laughter was loud enough to echo around the bedroom. “ _What_?”

“You sound just like him.” he answered only, automatically making her stand very still.

“Like who?” she asked carefully, but already guessing the answer.

“Like the guy I’m definitely not.” Scott stated with a rueful smile.

Lydia took the chair.

She stared at him long enough for his smile to turn into a frown. “You are not him.”

“No.”

“But there’s a him?’

“Yes.”

“And he’s not old? Or a dog?”

“Yes... or no, I suppose.”

Lydia took a deep breath, feeling her temper rising. 

“Why?” she tried and was proud once she heard her voice didn't concealed even half the anger she was feeling right now.

Fuck the academy. She earned that Oscar everyday.

Scott took a deep breath before answering, Lydia could tell he was trying to apologize in every word that came out of his mouth and that made her hate him a fraction less. “Because he went weird after the news appeared." he said softly. "Really weird... wouldn’t eat right, wouldn’t go out, wouldn’t even talk about trying to reach you.”

Lydia sighed... well, so did she.

“And?”

“It was Allison’s idea” he said as if it explained everything - it kinda did -, and then after only her silence followed: “It was never planned. Kira showed up and she thought I was him and it all happened very fast and we were worried you were going to use him for media. I mean, have you seen twitter lately? Of course you have. Sorry. I’m sorry. We didn’t know you and he was...”

“Weird." Lydia completed flatly. "You mentioned.”

“Yes.” Scott kept his eyes down. “He’s been through a lot. I was worried.”

“Does he even know? That I’m here, I mean?”

“No.”

_Oh great._

Lydia fought the urge to roll her eyes so badly she was impressed to not have broken something.

“ _Who’s_ him?”

“He’s...” Scott hesitated. “You know what? I’ll go get him.” he jumped out of the bed, making Lydia almost jump with him.

“So he’s close by?” she tried, getting up to follow him.

“Yeah, probably went out for a run or something” he said, trying hard to smile. Lydia found her anger diminished. “I’ll find him, I always do. You’ll love him! He’s great... really... _uh_... decent looking and all...”

“Well, don’t make me drop my panties already.” Lydia answered with a smirk and Scott took it as the best he could get from her at that point. He was full on smiling by the time he reached the door, opened it, and then simply stopped.

Lydia almost ran into his back.

She thought she saw him muttering something about deers, but that couldn't be right. He then proceeded let her through, and she did, only to be met by the confused eyes of the so-called Stiles.

_His eyes were light brown._

And that was all she could gather before the guy jumped up from his place on the floor so fast he almost pushed Kira off the couch. He then proceeded to quickly check on the girl. Then check himself. Then stared at Scott, opened his mouth, closed it, then stared at himself again and was about to go to Kira when Scott took pity on him.

“Stiles.” he called evenly, in a way that said he had done it a thousand times before and Stiles stopped moving at once, seemingly almost by muscle memory alone. “This is Lydia Martin." Scott continued to the blank eyes of his friend. "I need to go and do something for a second, and I’ll be right back.”

Stiles nodded slowly, looking anywhere around the room, but at Lydia.

“Right back, I swear.” Scott repeated, and as a second thought. “Don’t be a dic... well, _that_   _you_.”

That got a response out of Stiles. His face changed in an instant from confused to completely and utterly annoyed. “Got it, Scott.”

Scott nodded and left.

And Lydia was there staring at Kira, completely nonplussed.

People usually reacted badly at meeting her, Scott being an exception but she guessed his nervousness about lying were already too much for him to be starstruck as well. Only Stiles didn't look nervous, he looked shocked - and maybe a bit angry?

She kept a cool look and desperately searched for something to say, until she finally noticed the paper in Kira’s hands and saw her answer.

“Did you sign the Confidentiality Agreement?” she asked, trying hard to look at him with calm and failing a bit. 

“The Confidentiality Agr...?” he stared at Kira, then back at her for a bit, before it finally seemed to down on him.

His eyes narrowed, her stomach knotted.

_Oh this wasn't good._

“The Confidentiality Agreement. It is suppose to guarantee that you won’t...” Kira started helpfully.

“I’m aware of what it is, thank you.” Stiles interrupted her, not taking his eyes from Lydia for a second, his tone incredibly flat. “This is _my_ house and if I remember it right, I'm haven't invited anyone here today. So forgive me if I'm still trying to understand why suddenly I have contracts to sign.”

At that, Lydia felt her temper rising. She liked it. It made her feel back at her wits again. And yes, sure, she was at his house and could be more polite, but really? _Who the hell did he think he was_?

(also he had a weird way of looking intently and untrusting and maybe a bit dazed all at the time and really it was his fault if she was on defensive mode)

So no, she wouldn’t apologize. She only smiled smugly. Kira actually groaned at the expression on her face.

“Sweetie, some of us need to worry about people running out their mouths.” Lydia answered matter-of-factly, crossing her arms around her chest. She hummed a bit to herself, before continuing: “And your childish outburst and refusal to sign a simple piece of paper is not exactly trust inducing, Mr...?"

“Oh right, you care for my name now?” Stiles scoffed, turning his back at her and falling back to the carpet. “Make yourself comfortable, why don't you? Who knows what the fuck Scott is even doing right now?”

So, listening to a guy you don’t even know swearing should never have any kind of impact on a person’s body. It really shouldn’t. Lydia didn't get herself at all at this point. Maybe she had eaten something expired this morning.

Still, Lydia shared a bathroom mirror with Ellen Degeneres just last week and wasn't about to look uncomfortable just because a smart mouthed ill-tempered guy decided to project all his trust issues on her. So she looked around the room for the “comfortable” part and realised she could either sit down by the counter, clearly positioning herself as further away from him as possible (a sane reasonable option). Or sit besides Kira on the couch, right where his back was rested on (the bad, not good, terrible, awful, obvious choice, of course).

Lydia was no runner. Especially on heels.

So she went to the couch, not missing for a second the way his eyes followed her every step. She sat comfortably by Kira and smiled at the girl, silently telling her to relax. Kira pointed at the paper in her hand. Lydia rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘ _later_ ’.

“I can almost feel you talking behind my back." Stiles said then, eyes on the pictures spread on the floor. "I’ll sign the damn papers later, all right?” 

Lydia smiled at Kira, who visibly relaxed, laying back on the couch. She dragged her eyes through whatever Stiles was working on and frowned at the pictures of dead bodies.

“Is that some kind of test?” she heard herself asking, curiosity peeked.

Stiles turned his head to her on reflex and she wasn’t ready to have his eyes on her from this close. It shocked her a bit apparently, since her heart took that moment to decide to play a samba.

“A test.” his voice was rough and apathetic, and it was like a blade to her stomach, but Lydia managed to keep her face impassive. 

“For school.” she explained. “Like a made up scenario or something.”

“Yeah, sure, _school_...” he answered looking back quickly at his work; but Lydia wasn't certain he had even listened to her.

“His dead is a sheriff. He’s helping.” Kira supplied.

Lydia raised her eyebrow, unconsciously bending her body down, closer to him. “Oh, so it’s real?”

Stiles turned to her again, clearly ready to answer her something along the lines of “mind your own damn business” or "yes", but this time they were _way_ closer than she had calculated - and Lydia had always been so good at math.

He froze, inches from her face, and she could suddenly count every freckle on his skin.

“Yes, it’s real!” Kira's voice snapped Lydia out of it. She found herself straightening up with a jump. “Disgusting, huh?”

Stiles cleared his throat, then looked back at the pictures as if searching what was so wrong about it.  

“You’re looking for tips.” she guessed and was proud to hear her voice sounded completely unfazed. 

“ _Erhn_... more like patterns really.” he said, raising one of the photos in his hand.

“Like the the killer being left handed?” Lydia suggested.

“Right, yeah, something like that...”

“No, I mean this killer.”

“What?”

“I mean this killer being left handed.”

“Yeah, I heard, something like that.”

“Stiles.” his head snapped at her so fast she had no idea how he didn’t break anything. “This killer is left handed.”

Stiles took his time, mouth hanging open, until realisation finally made its way to his face. He looked back at the pictures.

“ _What_?”

“The knots.” she pointed out. 

“It's all... he’s left handed.” Stiles breathed. He them proceeded to open about ten files a minutes, searching for something. “ _Yes_. Holly shit, even better, if I can locate...”

Lydia found that maybe immersing herself in the idea of solving the problem at hand was a good alternative to over analise why her body was behaving completely insane today. So she pushed away for a moment where she was and who she was talking with and really if they could only find...

“A tie, maybe a bracelet.” she suggested, as Stiles rummaged through his papers non-stop.

“Or his boats’...”

“Wait, he has a boat?!" Lydia reached for the files at the carpet. "Are these color-coded? Did you separated them by...?”

“The blue one.”

“Also by...?”

“Orange.”

“Ew." Lydia paused. "Terrible combination.”

“Not...” Stiles raised the blue file and put it right beside the orange one she had just handled him. “...always.”

Then he looked at her and he was full on smiling and maybe her head clouded for a second there, because she was pretty sure Kira never screamed unless she had tried talking at least five times.

“GUYS!”

They both snapped their heads up to look at her. Lydia was on the floor right beside Stiles. _When had she gotten there?_

“Scott’s here.” Kira pointed at the door.

Lydia stared at him for a second trying to remember why that was important information.

“We couldn't find him.”

So apparently Allison was in town; her tone was laced with sorrow, but her lips were curved in a knowing smile.

“Who?” Lydia asked, then when Kira cleared her throat: “Oh, right. The _soulmate_.”

Stiles snapped his head back at her, then at Scott and Allison, then again back at her, his mouth hanging open - w ~~hy was it always hanging open? Was he doing it on purpose?~~

“I guess I’ll come later then. Maybe on the weekend?” Lydia asked, still a feeling a bit out of it. “Will he be here?”

Scott smiled at her softly. “Actually...”

“She’s looking for Jackson?” Stiles interrupted and Scott lost his words momentarily.

“...yes.” he seemed to find them.

So Jackson was the name. _Huh_.

“He’ll definitely be here on the weekend.” Stiles answered, as Scott opened his mouth to say something, but Allison was on it.

“The weekend it is!” she dimpled at them, holding her boyfriend's arm and they were obviously hiding something. Allison must had noticed something on her expression, because her smiled turned pleading. “I’m sorry for the little ruse.”

Lydia let it go, if only because by the end of the day she was promised to have a file on her hands explaining all she needed to know about who was Stilinski, and what were they all lying about. She waved Allison's apology off, getting up from her place on the carpet. “That’s fine. In a way, I kind of did the sam...”

She lost her words when Stiles' hand came out of nowhere to hold her own, as he helped her getting up. Lydia stared at him, then at his hand, praying to all the gods in this universe and the next she was not blushing as furiously as she thought she was, and hoping that the bolt of electricity running up her arms didn't stop her heart at once. It had a beautiful career in samba after all.

Stiles let her go almost as suddenly as he took her hand, using his own to scratch the back of his neck instead. “Sorry... the heels, my mother used to ask for help.”

It took her a while to drag her eyes from his and actually understand what he was talking about. Oh. _Oh._ _“_ Yeah. Sure. That’s... attentive.”

She looked at Kira suddenly. “We should go then”.

The girl jumped from her place on the couch, nodding furiously.

Lydia hugged Scott and Allison in goodbye, before turning uncertain to a still frozen by his place on the carpet Stiles. “So, good luck with that.”

Stiles looked at the pictures than at her. And smiled, _shyly_.

She was maybe possibly dead inside.

“Right, thanks.” he said, waving his hand weirdly, then adding an uncertain: “You too, I guess, with whatever you’re doing today.”

“I’ll be at the Graham Norton show tomorrow.” she blurted out for no reason other than the fact she was apparently having a brain meltdown.

His eyebrows shoot up. “London! That’s... _nice._ ”

“Yes.” she looked at Scott and Allison, who seemed to be in literal pain right about now and finally turned to leave, waving a bit, almost running into a door, but actually managing to keep some self pride throughout the whole ordeal, because she was awesome ~~and in severe denial~~.

It was like there was only air available once she the door closed behind her. Lydia took a deep intake of it.

Kira stared at her, completely confused. “ _What.happened? What.ruse?_ ”

They walked back to the entrance of the building, where a car probably waited for them, while she explained everything that happened.

Her phone rang by the end of the story and it was a blessing, because Kira did not look happy. Lydia made a gesture to silence any words the girl might have when she saw who was calling.

“Hi Danny. Tell me.” she said impatiently.

“There’s no such person as a Scott Stilinski.” Danny answered at once.

Lydia climbed at the car Kira pointed at her. “I’m aware, his name is Jackson Stilinski, apparently.” she said, getting comfortable for her travel to the airport.

“No, it’s not.” Danny replied flatly. “His name is... something I can’t even pronounce, but he goes by a nickname.”

She waited.

“You have no idea, do you?” Danny’s voice was teasing and Lydia found herself panicking a little. “Oh you’re gonna love this.”

* * *

 

"I panicked, all right?" Stiles repeated for what he thought was the hundredth time this night only. "She was standing right in front of me, being all perfect, as she is… PERFECT, SCOTT, GODDAMNED PERFECT, AND I… oh god I was an asshole."

Allison's hand reached from her place in the couch, comfortably settled beside her boyfriend, to pat Stiles' mess of hair in sympathy.

"We know, cutie, it's alright." she said softly, as if he was somewhat of a puppy, instead of, you know, a full grown man. "She'll come again and then you can both talk."

Stiles rolled his eyes from his place on the floor, laying his head back on the couch and rubbing his hands on his face. Allison retreated her hand to grab at some popcorn instead.

"She hates me." Stiles mumbled from behind his hands. "How can she hate me? I'm her _soulmate_! This is so messed up."

Allison and Scott were silent for enough time that Stiles turned his head to stare at them. They were looking at each other, clearing communicating through their eyes only. _Goddamned long-term couples_. "What?" he complained.

Apparently it was Scott's turn to change the diaper, because he took a deep breath before smiling softly at Stiles. "She doesn't hate you, dude." he offered lamely.

"She almost ran on a door trying to run away for me. _Literally_."

Scott was apparently spent on his argument, because he just stared at Allison in reply.

"She was probably just nervous." the girl suggested.

"Yeah, right." Stiles shook his head, then dragged his eyes back to the TV. He was a complete masochist. "What time is it on, anyway?"

"Five minutes." Scott answered promptly. "Will she be the first guest?"

"Yes." Allison and Stiles answered in unison and Stiles could almost feel her knowing look at the back of his head.

"Thought you were staying away from the internet..." she singsonged.

"Thought you were staying away from my business, but hey, we can't always get what we wanted." Stiles replied flatly.

All he got in return was a chuckle and, honestly, Allison used to be really sweet in high school. He wouldn't have allowed Scott to date her if he knew she would grow into such a nagging friend.

"I'm taking back my approval of this relationship. Allison, you can go now." he said, but had no fire to his voice.

"That possibility expired like two years ago."

Stiles only hummed in return, mostly because the Graham Norton show had just started and his heart was already thumping loudly in his ears. Stiles watched through Graham's opening monologue completely straight faced as Scott and Allison chuckled behind him. Somewhere along joke number twelve or two hundred, he felt Jackson's weight on the couch behind him.

"Is it on already? _You guys didn't call me_." Jackson whispered offended.

"Stiles was having a meltdown." Allison replied calmly and Scott, the traitor, snorted.

"Oh, then good call on the not calling."

Stiles was about to reply something on the lines of "fuck you" or "mind your own damn business" or, like, "pass me some popcorn", but instead found himself shushing them when Graham started introducing his first guests.

"You'll know him from his absolute fantastic work in Hunger Games: The Prequel, ladies and gentlemen, Theo Raeken!"

The camera panned to a good looking guy, waving at the screaming girls in the auditory. He proceeded to shake Graham's hand and sit comfortably on the red couch.

"Now, you may know her from her work in Really Small Manhattan, but it's her flawless interpretation of Simone De Beauvoir and the recent film The Woman and The Hat that has gotten everyone looking at this redhead. Warm welcome for Lydia Martin!"

"Strawberry blonde. Do your research dud..." Stiles lost his breath mid-sentence.

Lydia walked in wearing a navy blue dress, that hugged her hips perfectly and had a low cut neck, low enough to show...

"So she's done hiding it then." Jackson commented from behind him. "Good on her. And, you know, on all people interested in woman in all the plan..."

"Shut up, Jackson." Stiles warned him heatedly, but didn't take his eyes from the screen.

The silence that followed told him they were all probably communicating behind his back again.

Stiles needed new friends.

Graham went on to ask both of them about their very different types of acting and roles. Then to congratulate Lydia on her Oscar nomination, being kind enough to even ask about her assistant's welfare. They went on to talk about Lydia's heroic acts for a while, until finally Graham's eyes fell down onto the mark above her right breast.

"So, I suppose we need to talk about it." he said and Lydia straighten up on her seat. 

"My cleavage?" she suggested, making everyone on the room laugh for awhile. Eventually, she shrugged. "What do you want to know, Graham?"

The host made a spectacle of raising his eyebrows to the camera, before turning to her: "How is the search going, I suppose? Any idea on where to find them?"

Lydia looked down and blushed a bit at that; Stiles' stomach tightened. "Some ideas. But I have yet to meet him."

Graham's mouth shaped into a perfect 'o'. "So there's a he?"

She laughed a bit and nodded. "Yes, and yes, it's a he."

"And is he very old?"

Lydia laughed again, following everyone else's suit. "Why do people always ask me that? No, he's not very old, he's..." then she frowned. "I'm actually not sure how old he is. Probably around my age."

"Exactly your age, honey" Allison answered from her place on the couch. "Unless she's talking about mind age. Then probably around twelve."

 Stiles only flicked her calves, ignoring her over dramatic yelp of pain and Scott's censoring eyes on the back of his head.

"Still though, he _could_ be old and that would be fine." Lydia went on after Graham quipped about her lack of interest in knowing more about her soulmate. "People have this idea that it needs to be romantic, but he could just be a good friend, you know? Someone you can trust no matter what."

Stiles heart clenched at that, for some reason finding a lot of relief from her words. Maybe she wouldn't be too disappointed that it was him, if she was this okay with any scenario.

"So, you know..." she smiled at Graham. "As long as he is not an asshole."

There was a beep on her words, but Stiles heard her perfectly none the less. He groaned so hard, Jackson threw a popcorn at him.

"Scott, call her PA. Cancel it." he found himself saying. "Please, oh my god, I think I need to lay down."

"You're laid down as it is." Scott answered, sounding confused. "And you're kidding, right?"

Stiles turned to stare at his best friend, working his best glare.

"Scott." he said, voice low. "Cancel.it."

Allison rolled her eyes, but both of them ended up nodding. Stiles turned his eyes back to the TV, staring at the perfection that was Lydia Martin and wondering how he was going let her know the universe was playing a dirt joke on her.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They met! Now shit hits the fan. Thanks to everyone reading it :) :)


	3. Twitter Crash #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, she ought to be getting better at this.
> 
> But to be fair, the last time she was standing in this spot, Lydia thought her soulmate was a sweet nice guy who she could see herself getting along with great and having the friendship to end all friendships. Now, she knew perfectly well she was going to encounter an asshole, who kind of disliked her and had lied to her face 
> 
> \- and who had the power to make her act like an idiot for no apparent reason, so there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long.  
> i AM finishing this fic though. swear.  
> everything is written and all. just need the time to edit and create the posts.  
> anyway, thanks for reading it <3

Honestly, she ought to be getting better at this.

But to be fair, the last time she was standing in this spot, Lydia thought her soulmate was a sweet nice guy who she could see herself getting along with great and having the friendship to end all friendships. Now, she knew perfectly well she was going to encounter an asshole, who kind of disliked her and had lied to her face - and who had the power to make her act like an idiot for no apparent reason, so there.

Lydia was not getting better at this. If possible, this time she was even more  ~~nervous~~... _unsure_.

Which meant naturally that she had heels on, heels attached to boots. Heels that complimented her light blue dress.

Her hair was perfectly made into a braid that went down her back, almost reaching her waist.

She looked fierce, serious and ready for battle. She should be fine.

"Lydia, you'll be fine." Kira's voice reached her, as the girl send a look at the door expectantly. "Knock, will you?"

Lydia raised her hand to do just so, but lowered it at the next second. Kira groaned.

"Maybe I should tell him I know everything and end this mess." she mused, staring at the white blank door as if it was about to answer her.  

"I thought you said you wanted to give him the opportunity to do it in his own time." Kira answered robotically as she had a thousand times before.

"Well, sure, but what about my time?"

What about it she never got to know, because before Kira could even finish rolling her eyes, the door opened to reveal a nervous smiling Scott.

"I thought I heard voices." he welcomed, then proceeded to lower his voice and look around expectantly. "So, you're here."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. He was clearly nervous about something. "Wasn't I supposed to be?"

Scott's eyebrows shot up. "No! I mean, _yes_. I mean, just come in, come in."

Lydia did, followed close by Kira. She looked around the living room, searching for  _people_.

"So, where's him?" Lydia started tapping her foot impatiently against the floor, once she found no one else around.

"Jackson?" Scott asked, scratching the back of his head and looking almost as uncomfortable as herself.

 _Good_.

"Hm?" she frowned, then remembered. "Right. Yeah, _him_."

Scott nodded, gesturing towards the vacant stools by the counter. Kira took one, Lydia kept shifting in her feet.

"He's stuck in class." Scott answered, lying out of his ass.

Class on a Saturday? _Amateur_.

"But feel free to hang out here until he gets back. Do you have anywhere else to be?"

Lydia had cleared her schedule for this, so no. But she also wouldn't admit that in the off chance that Stiles had his ears plucked behind a door somewhere.

"I guess I can wait for a bit." she looked at Kira, as if to confirm her words. The girl frowned, then seemed to understand.

" _Suuure_. I'll keep you noted." Kira smiled nervously, glancing at Scott, who was too occupied throwing looks at a closed door across the living room - _maybe Stiles room? -_ to notice anything odd about Kira's words.

Lydia watched the two of them for a second and the way Kira's lips turn into a seemingly unconscious soft smile every time she looked at Scott. She guessed they could have made a good couple, in another life. Both way too gullible for their own good, but probably the kindest people on a ten miles ratio.

A door cracked open taking Lydia's thoughts away from crazy couples possibilities. And no it wasn't Stiles' bedroom door, if the steam coming out was any indication of it.

Lydia's suspicion was confirmed when Stiles himself emerged from it, toothbrush hanging from his lips, wearing a towel on his neck and a low hanging one on his hips. And that was all he was wearing.

She took the seat.

Stiles stopped in his tracks as soon as he took a look around the room, the shock on his face quickly giving way to an impassive stare as he dragged his eyes from Scott to Kira, and finally to Lydia. Then his eyes narrowed, snapping back at his friend.

"Scott?" he asked, voice low.

Lydia swallowed hard. Maybe... _just_   _maybe_ she had been a little bit in denial when she stated that he simply wasn't unattractive, because right now, deprived of his awful sense of style, Stiles was proving to be... well... _at least_ distracting. 

Her eyes traveled from the hair plastered on his forehead, to his narrowed eyes, and to his almost obscene red lips. A drop of water was still making its way down his throat to his freckled shoulders. Lydia eyed it until it reached his chest, dusted with hair and down his reasonably (and surprisingly) nice toned abs, until it reached that soft patch of hair down his navel straight to his…

"She came early." Scott's voice took her out of her stupor.  

And yes, maybe she had.

_Wait, what?_

"I was here fifteen minutes before scheduled." she recovered, managing to keep her voice calm, but failing to drag her eyes away from Stiles. "That can hardly be considered early." 

"Scheduled, huh?" Stiles eyes traveled from her to his friend, calculating, but at least he had the decency of taking the toothbrush out of his mouth. Then pointing it at her, he smirked. "Can't exactly be considered late though."

"Fashionably on time." she replied, pursing her mouth. His eyes were attracted by the movement, he licked his lips, her stomach tightened - they were back at their impasse.

" _So_." Scott started. They both turned to look at him. He actually flinched. "Jackson is stuck in his class." he threw a warning look at Stiles, who had no reaction to it. "So I told Lydia she could hang here for a bit. Allison will be here anytime now."

"Isn't she always?" Stiles replied flatly, then finally shrugged. "All right. Let's wait then, for Jackson."

Lydia fought the urge to roll her eyes at him, then watched as he excused himself to his room, muttering something about "cold as fuck" that she really did not need to hear. Scott smiled indulgently at her and Kira.

"He's worth the patience, I swear." then seemingly realizing his mistake: " _Jackson,_ I mean. He'll be here any second."

Kira lowered her head against the counter, Lydia only smiled.

There was a fraction of a second as Scott decided what to do next and then he was offering them basically everything in the room.

"You guys wanna watch TV? We have TV. We also have beer! No, way too early. What time is it? We don't have clocks around, now I'm thinking maybe we should buy one? Sorry for that, we just moved in. We have coffee though! We always have coffee, because caffeine-less Stiles is bad Stiles. I think Jackson might have left a Gatorade somewhere around here but I can't..."

Lydia watched as he paced around the living room, going from the couch to the kitchen counter, to the fridge, looking and sounding a lot like his roommate, and she felt herself smiling knowingly. Maybe his stress about lying had overcome the weirdness of being in the same room as a famous actress last time, but now he seemed to be realizing his current position. Scott was acting _starstruck_. And it was absolutely entertaining.

"You have water?" Lydia suggested dryly after he unreasonably offered her a pen. He took a look at the object in his hands, placed it back on the table in the living room and came to smile boyish at them.

"Yes, _yes._ I can manage that." he answered.

Stiles emerged from his room a few minutes later, as Scott was pouring them two glasses of water. He had a hoodie and some shorts on and Lydia thought maybe that would make her feel better, but it had almost the contrary effect. He looked so soft and comfy and approachable, with his hair still a wet mess and she could imagine how it would feel to thread her finger through it.

So Lydia took the glass of water being offered to her, because it gave her something to do with her hands and also because her mouth was crazy dry.

Scott smiled when Stiles passed by him behind the counter, going to retrieve a bowl out of the fridge.

"You're making cookies?!" he asked happily, looking like a five year old.

Stiles nodded, but didn't look back at them; apparently his knew strategy to deal with his soulmate presence in the room was to simply ignore her completely. _Real mature_.

Scott turned to Kira and Lydia, grinning. "You'll guys will die when you try it. He bakes the absolute best cookies."

"Does he?" Lydia murmured.

Stiles shrugged, but Lydia could see the back of his neck reddening a little. "Dad can't cook to save a life, mom gone too early. Had to eat to live. Not a big deal." he turned to them, raising the bowl and showing them the mixture, completely misinterpreting their surprised look as skeptical: "It's an online recipe anyway."

Scott rolled his eyes to his friend as if saying 'don't listen to him', then his attention was completely stolen when Allison barged through the door, carrying about a dozen gallons of milk. "I BET SOMEONE IS MAKING COOK..." she stopped mid-sentence, taking a look at Kira and Lydia by the counter. "Oh, you're early."

"Fifteen minutes!" Lydia threw her arms in the air, to the sound of Scott's amused laughter.

Allison only smiled knowingly. The she carried the milk to the counter, giving her boyfriend a peck on the lips. He stared at the bags dumbfounded. "How did you know he was making cookies?"

She shrugged, then stared at Lydia like Scott was so obtuse. "He always bakes when he's upset."

Scott's eyes widened. Stiles froze in his place by the sink. Lydia stared from one to the other.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice sounding strange even to herself.

"Uh." Allison didn't seem like the type to be caught red handed, but Lydia figured there was a first time for everything.

"Bad test." Stiles answered without turning; opening one of the cabinets over the sink to retrieve a cooking tray. He started swiping the mixture and placing it in the tray with a spoon. Then when he realized everyone was still silent: "Scott, say something dumb, will you?"

"Hey!" Scott complained, but it did the trick. He even joined when everyone started laughing.

Lydia felt strangely comfortable. She couldn't remember the last time she had hang out with normal people and people her own age. Kira seemed to have thought the same thing, because she was smiling softly at her, then mouthed: "This is nice."

It was nice.

Stiles raised his arms to grab a spoon on the cabinet, his hoodie going up and giving Lydia a nice view of his ass.

It was really nice.

Allison cleared her throat and Lydia dragged her eyes to the girl, staring at her knowing smile. She shrugged shamelessly and Allison's smile grew.

"Oh, dude!" Scott tapped his hand on his forehead just as Allison sat on the stool next to Lydia. "Help me out with the _thingy._  You promised."

Stiles groaned, but Scott ignored him, coming to stand beside his girlfriend, elbows supported on the counter. He started tapping at his phone.

"What _thingy_?" Kira asked when she realized no one else would. Scott barely raised his head to answer, but was interrupted even before his mouth opened.

"Scott wants to join a sorority." Stiles said flatly, cueing Allison's happy chuckle.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Scott lowered his phone at that. "It's called a secret society and it's awesome."

Stiles gave her an annoyed look and she smiled understandably. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and went back to his cookies, paling slightly, but forcing the next words out: "What is it called when people have meetings in a common place, to talk about their feelings, how much better they are than other people, call each other siblings and drink by themselves instead of at bar?"

"A sorority." Lydia answered promptly and Scott's forehead hit the counter.

Allison patted him in the back for a bit. "Oh, go ahead, you know he'll answer it. What are the questions?"

"Questions?" Lydia looked at Allison. The girl rolled her eyes.

"It's like a quick fire about a lot of random stuff." she explained. "It's phase one, I think. Or was that the duck thing?"

"The duck thing?" Lydia questioned.

"Yeah, don't remind me. Cambridge is so weird. Anyway, ready?" Scott said as Stiles disappeared behind the counter to put the trail in the oven. Apparently Stiles' absence of complaint meant agreement, because Scott went to the first question without hesitating. "What's the name of the poison that Socrates..."

"Hemlock." Stiles voice was heard.

Sure, Lydia knew is was an easy question and she knew the answer herself, but she also would not pretend to not be at least slightly turned on right about now. Denial can take you only so far, sometimes you just have to face the facts.

"H-E-M-L-O-C-K." he spelled out as he popped back up, turning to lean his hips on the sink, eyes on Scott.

"Right." Scott punched the air for a bit, but concentrated on his phone the next second. "Shit, next, okay. He was president of the USA and..."

"Adams." Stiles said and this time even Lydia turned to like at him nonplussed. He shrugged: "We're in Cambridge and John Adams is the only USA president that studied in Harvard, aside from Obama of course, but it said _was."_  

" _And_ one of the original founding fathers." Scott completed anyway.

Stiles gestured with his hands as if saying 'see?'before repeating: "Adams."

Lydia felt her eyebrows rising, but tried hard to keep an impassive look on her face. She guessed he would have to be smart to go to Harvard, but it seemed to be more than that. Stiles didn't look like the type to be book-smart (she knew the type, she was the type), apparently his thing was more on the side of general knowledge and deduction - the dead body pictures started to make a lot more sense suddenly. She also knew through Danny that he was an undergrad at the Law & Government Program, but his goal of a career in law enforcement was just now starting to become obvious - Lydia was somehow surprised by that conclusion, Stiles looked way too fragile to be fighting bad guys. 

"Right again." Scott cheered, then frowned. "Dude, I have no idea what this even mean: from what planet is Luke Skywalker from?"

Stiles raised his arms in rebellion, pointing at Scott firmly. "I should not tell you this one. It would serve you well!"

"Oh, is it a Star Wars thing? Man, c'mon _,_  answer this and I swear I'm watching the damn..."

"Tatooine." Stiles conceded flatly and Lydia felt herself smiling a bit - _of course_ , that was better, being a nerd matched precisely the idea she had made of him. "And I'll remember that."

They went on for about five more minutes and from there on Lydia even knew some of the answers, but still kept to herself. Everyone else helped though, even Kira surprised them when she answered two impossible questions about Japanese folklore (... _kitsunes or something_ ). Lydia found herself perched up on the stool by the time Scott reached the tenth question.

Allison rolled her eyes, reading behind Scott's shoulder: "That's ridiculous."

"Oh crap, it's a math thing." Scott cursed. 

Stiles raised his hands in surrender: " _Aaaand_ I'm out." he turned to the sink, taking a plate from the drier and started toweling it.

Scott looked lost for a second, as Kira started nudging Lydia on her waist. She pretended not to notice it.

"Go ahead, Scott, we'll _all_ help." Kira said then, eyeing Lydia dramatically.

"Okay: what is the square root of 3 to the square root of 2 power times the square root of 3 to the negative square root of 2 power?" he stared at them dumbfounded, as Allison reached for pen and paper in her bag. "Anyone?"

Lydia sighed at the silence and let it drawl for a bit, until Allison finally gave up throwing her pen on the counter with a frustrated huff. Then Kira was staring at her and strangely enough, so was Stiles. His eyebrow was slightly furrowed as if he could guess she was hiding something, but knew that he wouldn't have to wait long to find out exactly what.

So she took a long breath before answering calmly: "One."

All heads turned her way. Scott eyed her suspiciously, but typed it in anyway, then his face opened up in a huge smile: "It's right."

Allison's eyes were wide.

"How did you do that?" she asked. Lydia tried to not take their collective surprise as an offense. She shrugged slightly, avoiding at all costs to look at Stiles, but feeling his eyes almost making a hole on her forehead.

"She's a genius." Kira answered happily and they all turned their heads when the sound of a plate breaking on the sink reached them.

Lydia looked at Stiles, towel still in his hands, staring frozen at the mess in front of him. He then proceeded to shake himself out of his stupor, opened the tap and put his left index finger under the running water. Lydia's eyebrows shot up when she saw the blood.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Allison shrieked, half-raising from her stool at the same time Scott yelled "Dude!".

Stiles waved both of them off easily with his right hand. "It's fine, it's _fine_. I'll just..."

He took his finger away from under the water, eyeing the white table clot right in front of Lydia. He made a mention of grabbing it, but she slapped his hand off.

"Don't be an idiot. You know how long it takes to wash blood off white things?" Lydia reprimanded, rolling her eyes, pulling his scratched finger towards her and, without thinking about what the fuck she was doing, pressing her lips to it.

It took way more time than it should for her to realize the room had gone completely silent. She looked at Stiles, seeing his face completely paling, right hand clutched so hard at the counter's edge his knuckles were going white. She carefully removed her mouth from his fingers and licked some of the blood from her lips, his eyes followed the movement and he downright whimpered...

"I'M GONNA GO AND CHECK ON JACKSON." Scott declared so loud that Lydia dragged her eyes away from Stiles, but not not enough that she let go of his finger. Allison was quick to follow Scott into the room, none of them offering any explanation on why that was necessary in order to contact Jackson.

Kira jumped from her stool: "Bathroom." she offered meekly.

And just like that they were completely alone.

Lydia raised her eyebrows at Stiles, not allowing herself to even consider the possibility of blushing. "Weird."

He only shook his head sharply, as if trying to concentrate. Then he looked at their hands. "Yeah, _sure_... _uh_... can I have my finger back?"

Lydia rolled her eyes, but did not let go. She chose to analyze the cut for a bit instead, it was already starting to bleed again and she had to fight the urge to not put her mouth to it this time. She grabbed at some towel paper instead, applying pressure to the cut with it. "Actually, it really looks kind of serious."

"It's fine, Lydia." he answered, so soft that she almost didn't hear it. But it was also the first time she heard her name coming out of his mouth and it surprised her how much she liked the sound of it. "Honestly, I've had worse."

Lydia frowned at that, curiosity piqued. "Really?"

At that, Stiles finally seemed to accept that he wasn't getting his finger back anytime soon and adjusted so that he was now supporting his elbows on the counter, his face way closer to hers than before. He gave her a slow nod, lips starting to form a small smile as he noticed her curiosity. She tried not to show how much that look bothered her, focusing on his finger instead. "Still, you should get it seen, probably even stitched." she mused.

When he didn't answer right away, Lydia looked back at him and regretted it instantly.

From this proximity his eyes were pure gold, melted in a soft look she hadn't seen grace his features so far. She was ridiculously in love with it.

"Do you have a medical kit?" she whispered, her voice faltering a bit.

His eyes fell to her lips then and she felt a jolt passing through her spine; her heart went to such a crazy accelerated rhythm that for a while she was scared he could hear it. He was now holding her hand more than she was holding his finger.

"I can bandage it for you." she tried again, desperately trying to make him stop looking at her like that and losing her breath when one of his fingers softly caressed the back of her hand. "May I?"

His smile grew into a smirk, eyes coming to bore on hers. "You can do whatever you want, Lydia." he whispered and it was like having a bucket of butterflies being released into her stomach. 

She could feel his warm breath on her lips and if she just inched a _bit_ closer...

"OH SHIT."

They both snapped their heads towards the bathroom as Kira emerged from it looking absolutely horrified.

“Have either of you been on Twitter lately?” she asked, completely ignoring their compromising position and almost shoving her phone into Lydia’s face.

Lydia reluctantly let go of Stiles' hand to tap at the screen. Her heart was almost back at it's normal pace when the feel of Stiles warm breath on her neck told her he had come around the counter to read from behind her.

“Well, _fuck me_.” he said then, and if her knees went a bit weak she wasn’t sure if it was for his proximity or because of what she was staring at in the screen.

* * *

* * *

Oh crap, _they knew._

Lydia's mind was reeling as she stared at the screen. The three of them jumped when there was a loud knock on the door.

Kira and Lydia stared at each other, hesitant. When he realised none of the girls would do anything, Stiles reached for the door with a few steps.

“Who is this?” he asked, left hand on the doorknob.

There was a long pause full of tension, as the silence on the other side took its time to be finished.

“This is Brett Talbot." Lydia took a long breath, recognising the voice in an instant. "I’m here for Miss Martin.”

Stiles looked at them in question. Kira nodded, so he opened the door.

The guy on the other side was wearing a not-so-typical security guard uniform, black blazer and jeans - Kira was sure it would take attention off Lydia to have someone who could easily pass as a student guarding her today. He _was_ young and still he was at least a head taller than Stiles, all muscles and built and the kind of confidence only years of martial arts training could allow a person to carry. But weirdly enough, as they came face to face, Stiles half-shielding the girls with his body, a suspicious look on his face, Lydia felt he had grow twice as tall by attitude alone.

It was really only a simple act of stubbornness, but it brought a small smile to her lips anyway.

“We have a situation.” Brett informed, measuring Stiles up and down.

Allison and Scott finally emerged from his bedroom, looking around the room with matching confused stares. “We heard screams." Allison explained, looking at Stiles now. "Everyone ok?"

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but Brett beat him to it. "The media is here.” he stated flatly.

There was only silence in room for a moment, until Kira finally sprung into action, snapping her phone away from Lydia's hands in a swift motion.

“ _How?_ ” she whispered, tapping maniacally on her phone. “All right, all right, all right...”

She crossed the room to the nearest by window, face blanching at whatever she saw there. Lydia exchanged a look with her assistant.

“How bad?” she asked only.

“Notting Hill bad.” Kira replied placing her phone on her ear and making Lydia’s hand fly to her forehead, as she turned back to the counter.

From behind her, she heard Stiles' voice. “Do they know we are here? Or they’re just looking for m...  _erhn_ ,  _him_?”

Lydia turned to look at that. She watched as Stiles tapped his fingers against the door knob and Scott stared at his friend, concern all over his face.

“There’s no evidence to support their knowledge of anyone's presence here.” the guy replied. “At least not yet.”

At everyone's relief, Kira nodded, pocketing her phone and coming to stop right in front of Scott.

“You’re a good guy, right?” she asked directly at him, making use of the cold stare she usually directed at reporters.

It was a weird question, but to Lydia’s surprise, Scott nodded in all seriousness.

Kira smiled softly at that. “I’m trusting _you_ with her then.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Lydia asked.

Kira turned at her, shrugging.

“Honestly, it’s the only option at hand.” she explained, as she came to sit on the stool beside her by the counter. “It's bad now, but if they realize you’re here at 9 pm. Let’s just say it’s better they don’t.”

Lydia shuddered at that.

“It’s _fine_. I’ll lend her a pijama and she can sleep at Jackson’s room.” Allison said easily. Then turned her eyes at Lydia, not even making a real effort with the lie that followed: “He just texted he won’t be able to come home today.”

Lydia nodded half-heartedly, then turned at Kira: “Will you stay as well?”, she hated that it made her sound like a 3 year old in need of support, but she couldn't help the fact that Kira had become her main source of safety in the last few years.

The girl shook her head though. “I can't. I have to handle the media. Also, I might have to call your mother.”

Lydia made a face. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” she turned her head to the security guard next. “About you...”

“Lose the blazer and he can easily blend in with the students.” Stiles suggested. 

Brett stared at him again, this time appraisingly. “That’s a reasonable idea.” he turned his eyes to Lydia. “If that’s allright with you, Miss Martin?”

She only nodded.

“All right then.” Kira pocketed stood up from the stool, clapping her hands, sounding all business now and not at all like the anxious girl she was a minute before. “We should be going then. Take care of her, will you?” her eyes went to Scott again, he only nodded.

She stopped to hug him and Allison, gave Lydia a kiss on the cheek and wave awkwardly at Stiles.

Then she was gone, taking Brett with her.

Stiles closed the door, as Allison raised her arms happily: “So, movie night then?”

“Well, someone did promise me to watch Star Wars.” Stiles recovered quickly, smirking from his place leaning against the closed door and making Scott roll his eyes tiredly. Lydia managed a smile at that.

“Then it’s settled!” Allison decided, crossing the room to take Lydia by the hand and finally move her from her place by the counter. “C’mon, let’s get you some clothes. God knows there's enough of my pajamas in Scott's closet.”

Lydia moved to follow, feelings the boys eyes on her. 

"I guess I'll check the surroundings. Warn security. Make sure no one manages to get into de building." Scott rambled a bit.

Stiles nodded at him. "I'll come with you."

"Probably not a good idea. They are looking for..." Scott stopped himself, apparently remembering his lie mid-sentence.

Lydia did not understand this people. Had she dreamt about it or a few minutes ago Kira had revealed she was a genius? How did they actually believe she was not noticing their behaviour? She had _eyes_. Which she used to roll as she ignored their lack of ability to keep a secret.

"I''ll come with you." Stiles repeated. And just like that they were out of the door. Lydia fought the urge to tell him to keep hidden, but apparently no one had a picture of him _yet_ and Stiles seemed like the person who would know how to keep himself away from curious eyes.

They stood in companion silence for awhile, staring at the door and hearing the sound of footsteps getting further away, before she looked at Allison, fake confusion all over her voice: “So, how thin are this walls exactly?”

The girl dimpled at her. “Thin enough you have to be at least on the next corridor for whatever you’re saying to not be really heard.” Lydia nodded, understanding it.

When the sound outside disappeared completely, she opened her mouth, but Allison beat her to it: “ _How long have you known?!_ ”

Lydia really liked this girl.

She hummed for a while, wondering about how much of the truth she should tell Allison. The girl seemed to be trustworthy enough, but it wasn’t like their history had a whole lot of truth built into it. But then again, Lydia had a good feeling about the dimples and she always trusted her guts.

“My investigator found out the day I met Scott and you, and  _him_.” Lydia answered honestly. “But I guess...” she hesitated.

Alison didn’t miss a beat. “You guess...?”

Lydia shrugged. “I guess I always had a feeling about him. I have a good instincts. Mom used to say I'm almost banshee like.”

“Ban- _what now_?”

“Oh, it’s celtic mythology." she explained, with a tilt of her head. "A banshee is a wailing woman. It can sense death mostly, but it could have the gift of foreseeing.”

“ _Of course_. You guys are definitely soulmates.” Allison laughed, and Lydia let her get away with it because it gave her hope it would distract Allison from what was about the be said before.

If only so.

“Sorry, go on. A feeling you say?” she sing-songed the last part, bumping her shoulder with Lydia’s, making her smile despite of herself.

“An impression, per say. Not a big deal though.” Lydia quickly added when Alisson’s smile grew wider.

“And when was that?”

“When he caught you guys and Kira in Scott’s bedroom. I was watching, remember?” she answered nonchalantly, trying to sound casual about it and apparently failing since she got a surprised look as a response.

“So basically, first time you saw him?” and the worst part was that Allison seemed so impressed about it that she was actually trying to maintain a straight face.

Lydia rolled her eyes, making Allison crack. “AND THROUGH CAMERA LENS NONE THE LESS.”

She let the girl have her fun with it for a while, before interrupting her - honestly, this was not a cause for a celebratory dance and Allison just looked stupid - and noting reasonably. “You don't have to get all excited about it. It could be platonic, you know? Just because the soulmate concept has been transformed into a...”

“Bablablablabla.” Allison mocked. “You sound like a broken record. I know, you know, he knows, we all know it _could_ be platonic.” she threw her a skeptical look.

“But it could!” Lydia insisted.

Alison scoffed, turning in the direction of Scott's bedroom and pausing in front of the door. “Right, that’s why you look at him like you have a bowl of cookie in your hands and he is the last fucking glass of milk in the planet. Because it’s _platonic_.”

Lydia opened her mouth to give a perfect well thought out answer, but Allison disappeared into the room before anything could be said. She had every intention to follow the girl, but apparently her hesitation had took longer than Lydia calculated, because by the time she moved her feet, Allison was already back.

She had some clothes in her hands and a more considering expression on her face. It took her awhile, but eventually she appeared to have come to a conclusion to whatever was bugging her.

“He’s had a crush on you since like...” Allison frowned a bit. “I don’t even know.”

Lydia felt her heart leaping in her chest, but tried to ignore it.

“Than that must have been over for awhile now, because I pretty sure he doesn’t even _look_ at me for more than a second.” she reasoned, keeping her tone of voice controlled. “Not even to check me out, Allison. And I’m no modest prude, I _know_ I’m hot.”

That last bit came out a bit too brattish, but at least she was being honest now. Allison's smile grew so full, Lydia wasn’t sure how she wasn't feeling any pain on her cheeks.

“Oh, trust me, he looks at you plenty.” she started to walk towards the counter and Lydia followed suit – very much interested in what she was hearing now. “You guys are probably just taking turns.”

Lydia considered it for a while. "Let's say... and I'm not agreeing to it!" she quickly added as Allison started to laugh. "But let's say you possibly have a point and he is somehow interested. Shouldn't he, you know, maybe admit that he is my soulmate?" she questioned, feeling a bit loss and hating every second of it.

“He’s defensive.” Allison explained easily, getting under the counter to check on something. Lydia suddenly remembered the cookies were still on the oven. “Oh, he turned it off, thank God. I was saying..." she continued, as Lydia raised her eyebrows at her and came to sit on the same stool she was perched on before. "It’s just. A lot happened, in his life really, but also back in school. Stuff that it’s not really my place to talk about. And, like, Scott always was the one who trusted easily and maybe that went wrong a couple times. Stiles got worse. It’s just... it’s hard for him to let someone in and I think, please don’t get this the wrong way, but I think he hates the idea of a soulmate, I think he hates that he can’t help but like someone. And the fact that it is you... it messed him up, you know? I never seen him like that. Wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. I think he was honestly upset about it.”

Lydia held her breath all through Allison's words, but now she let it go abruptly in a huff. “And I thought you said he had a crush on me? Shouldn’t it be a good thing to have a crush on your soulmate?”

Allison considered it for a while, supporting her elbows on the counter and resting her her chin on her right hand. “I think it’s just too good of a thing. I think he is upset because he honestly believes he doesn’t deserve it. Deserve  _you_.”

Lydia shook her head. She thought about Stiles, the Stiles she had come to know for a few days only, the handsome - _yes, she admitted he was handsome, there you go universe, eat your fucking victory cake in silence_  -, crazy smart, witty, sarcastic, brave, even kind Stiles, and was honestly at loss on why he would think you wasn’t good enough for anyone, let alone her. “Well, that’s ridiculous." she voiced it with resolution. "Why would he think that?”

“That’s...” Allison paused, they suddenly could hear footsteps on the corridor. “That’s just not my place to tell. But be patient, Lydia, I promise you he's worth it.”

“Haven’t I been so far?” Lydia played it cool, trying to soften the weight left on her heart at Allison’s words. “He better bake fucking outter planetary amazing cookies though.”

Allison’s eyes glimmered at that. “Oh, he _does_.”

And he did.

Fucking hell.

Lydia was about to go to her fifth cookie by the time she realised it was probably polite to at some point look up at the people who were housing and feeding you.

None of them seemed to mind though, too invested in deciding in which order should they watch Star Wars. Stiles kept screaming about wanting it to be perfect, Allison was rolling her eyes and Scott looked like he was about to fall asleep right there at his place in the couch and not even make through the initial credits.

So Lydia focused on eating, only stoping to let out an undecided hum when Stiles asked her, from his place on the floor in front of the TV, if she was ready for the movie or if she was going to watch the cookies the entire night.

Eventually she nodded, taking the bowl of cookies with her and plopping down on the place on the couch beside Allison and Scott, clearly saved for her. “So, what are we watching?”

“Episode IV.” Stiles answered promptly, going through the DVD Menu, as the movie's theme blared around the room.

“Old saga then new saga?” she questioned, taking another cookie.

Stiles glanced at her suspiciously. “No, we’re going IV, V, I, II, III, and then VI and VII.”

Scott threw her an annoyed look. “Don’t even try to argue, just accept it makes no sense.”

Lydia mused at the order though, cookie still in hand. “Actually, it kind of does. I mean, it’s reasonable if you know nothing about Star Wars, like the fact that Darth Vader is Luke’s...”

“Don’t!” Stiles jumped from the floor to cover her mouth, apparently not thinking much about it. He took his hands off her like it burned him the next second. “Sorry," he recovered, staring at his own hand as if it would betray him again. "Scott doesn’t know.”

Lydia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Then she stared at Scott, who looked a lot  like a deer in headlights from his spot serving as Allison’s pillow. “Who’s Dark Vader?”

Stiles threw her a look and she shook her head in disbelief. “How could you possibly have escaped this spoiler? It’s been _thirty years_.”

Scott shrugged, making Allison chuckle, mostly at the completely disappointed look on Stiles' face. “I usually zone out when it comes to Star Wars.” and when the entire room seemed to stare at him in disbelief, he raised his hands in the air. “Who cares?! I’m watching it, aren’t I?” no one looked convinced so he changed his strategy. “So it makes sense, you say?”

Lydia tilted her head, deciding to help him out. “Well, I can see why it does. You get the interesting story first, but no spoilers, then when the big _Darth_ Vader reveal happens, you move to the flashback ones, then concludes satisfactory with VI and VII.”

Now the room was looking at _her_ in disbelief. “What?" she snapped her lips. "I read.”

Stiles threw his hand in the air. “See? Makes sense!" he smiled at her in victory, she chose to completely ignored her heart beats. That was a choice. That was a choice she had as a rational human being. God dammed heart beats though. He continued thankfully unaware of his effect on her: "Lydia, _you're amazing_ , I could kiss you right now!”

And it was somehow funny to watch how the words came out of his mouth and by the middle of the sentence he seemed to be trying to swallow them back in. Stiles then proceed to turn his back on then, dropped the remote on the carpet, then took almost three minutes to remember how to press play. He did it in the end though and Lydia fought the urge to pat his head and go “Atta boy”. She instead ignored him and chose to focus on the cookies in her lap.

Stiles kept shaking his leg up and down for awhile, but as the initial credits went by he seemed to relax. So much, that by the time Luke found out Old Ben was Obi Wan, Lydia was pretty sure he had fallen asleep. Not that she was purposely noticing him, it was just that his head seemed to be dangling dangerously close to her right knee now and it was like she could _feel_ the energy coming from his body.

She took a glance to the couple beside her, to find Scott unsurprisingly asleep as Allison watched with concentration, hands playing with her boyfriend’s fingers. When she realized Lydia was staring, Allison shook her head lightly, mouthing “early morning practice” as she motioned at Scott with her head, then down at Stiles, “late night studying”.

Lydia found herself smiling. It was sweet of them to try and watch a movie to distract her, even though they were clearly too tired to even function. She relaxed on the couch, deciding that if they went through the trouble the least she could do was watch the damned movie. For all her research she had never actually seen Star Wars, so maybe that was as much of a good thing to do as any when you’re in house arrest for paparazzi reasons.

It was surprisingly easy to focus on the movie after that, or it was until Stiles' neck finally gave in and his head plopped down on her leg. Lydia stilled immediately, feeling a jolt run from her knee to her her neck, sending goosebumps up to her spine. She threw a glance at Alison’s direction and found the girl asleep on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Lydia snapped her eyes back at the TV desperately trying to concentrate as Han Solo said goodbye to Luke and refused to fight and Luke was very disappointed in him and his hair was really soft... _wait what?_

 _Oh shit_ , apparently Stiles hadn’t woken up, but wasn’t completely asleep either, cause he now seemed to be nuzzling her knee.

Oh god, oh fuck, oh C’MON UNIVERSE.

She stood still as the heat came up from his skin to rest at her stomach and lower.

For a second, Lydia wondered if she should move but if she was to be honest - which apparently was a thing she did now -, it didn’t feel half bad to have him resting on her leg. And she could handle it, she had kissed Chris Evans in her last movie for fuck's sake and... _oh_.

The hair on the nape of her head rose as his long fingers enlaced her calf, starting to caress it up and down, and she actually whimpered, throwing her head back on the couch.

Was he truly asleep or just trying to make her go fucking insane?

_Was this a dream?_

Was _he_ dreaming? It seemed plausible.

There was nothing sexual about his movements - well, her body reactions begged to differ, but still, there was nothing objectively sexual about the movements -, he just seemed to be using her as a pillow or a teddy bear.

Lydia was a grown ass woman that could handle this.

She stared at the TV intently, munching on another cookie - was it the twentieth yet? She would have to spend a week on the gym eating only lettuce after this mess -, and willed herself to watch the goddamned movie.

And then, weirdly enough - or maybe not considering the amount of stress she had gone through this day -, she started to feel herself relax at the contact. The patterns he was running on her calves started becoming less and less awkward and just so much more _comfortable_. She was pretty sure the Death Star was still kicking by the time she closed her eyes.

“Lydia? Lydiaaa, c’mon Lydia. Let go of the cookies.”

She opened her eyes after what seemed to be a second later, coming face to face with a messed up looking Stiles. His hair was all over the place, eyes a bit puffed from sleep, but his lips were curled in a soft smile as he gestured with his head toward the bowl she still had firmly in her grip.

“Hmmm? Oh...  _Oh_.” Lydia let go of it quickly, feeling herself blushing slightly. “Sorry.”

Stiles only chuckled softly, as he took the bowl from her hands, opening her view to the screen in front of couch. She watched as the credits rolled.

That was a shame, Lydia was really curious to know what happened next. Maybe next time.

 _What_?

She recomposed her features into a cool look, but her heart might as well have paused at the sensation of familiarity she was already getting from this place. This was not good, nu-uh.

“So, the cookies were nice, huh?” Allison’s voice reached her from her place in the stool by the counter, taking Lydia away from her disturbing thoughts. She was ready for bed, wearing yoga pants and a long sleeve pink shirt, her hair a mess tied on a bun on the top of her head. Scott was nowhere to be found, probably asleep for a while now.

“Oh yeah. Right, they're okay I guess.” Lydia looked around her, refusing to act uncomfortable. “So, where am I sleeping? Here?”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Unfortunately Jackson’s room appears to be locked, so you’ll have crash with Stiles.”

Lydia felt her stomach clenching.

“That won't be necessary.” Stiles corrected coming out of his room - when had he gotten in? Lydia shook her head, trying to wake up a bit. "It’s fine. I’ll pick it." he explained and she realized he was carrying what seemed to be an actual lock pick kit.  _Who had that in their bedrooms?_

He shrugged at the look in her eyes, then knelt in front of what seemed to be Jackson’s bedroom door.

Allison looked defeated, but managed a smile for Lydia. Stiles threw his arms in the air as the lock clicked and the door opened. He smiled in triumph at Allison and she only glared back as if they were having some sort of inside war Lydia was not made of aware of. Stiles looked at her next, his expression shifting into a softer smile. “Piece of cake, done it a thousand times. He always locks it when he travels.”

And the funny thing was that he either didn't notice - unlikely - or simply didn’t mind his own slip.

This people were so confusing to her.

“Well, good.” Allison dimpled at him, the picture of innocence. “If it's all settled, Lydia can just go put her pajamas” she took something from behind the counter and her eyes sparkled as she dangled a extremely small, dark blue, silk night gown.

Stiles froze. Lydia froze.

Silent reigned until finally he cleared his throat, opened his mouth to say something, gave up and zapped straight into his room, mumbling anything that could be either “sleep well” or “fuck you” for all Lydia knew.

Allison only looked at her, with a victorious smile on her face, and Lydia couldn’t help but chuckle. She was definitely never going to understand this people.

But she thought she liked them.

* * *

 

 

* * *

Stiles desperately needed a full night of sleep. Better yet, _he craved it._

Last time he had that he was a much more innocent man, a child of the summer perhaps, someone who thought the most messed up thing that could happen this year was his favorite coffee cart changing its location - so  _so_ incredibly naive.

Now of course he was doomed to this life of Lydia Martin showing up in his doorstep, taking a nap in his couch, eating his cookies, daring to look at him with her OWN EYES, watching Star Wars. This life of no sleep whatsoever.

Stiles groaned into his pillow, he had somehow woken up to find himself almost tied to her right leg. One of those gorgeous amazing legs he loved so and he was fucking drooling on it.

Thank god she had been asleep.

He was pretty sure if she was awake she would have bolted away from the room so fast there would be a Lydia shaped hole on their wall at this point. And Stiles would probably never see her again. Never see her green eyes and strawberry blond hair, her red lips and the way she seemed to be unable to stop moving it, to pout or to press it together or just to drive Stiles insane - honestly, who knew. She was everything he thought she would be and then she was more. Smart and funny and witty and confident and apparently a fucking genius, OF COURSE, and he was... he was just a mess.

Stiles had made such a good job of keeping Donovan out of his mind for these last few months and now fate decided to throw him this big of a bone, and made him question everything again.

Was he worth it? Of anything? _Of her?_

A cracking noise on the next room told him she was probably still awake, wearing that night gown Allison had presented - and damned be her and her victorious dimples. His skin had crawled only thinking about the figure Lydia would cut with her curls down, wearing only that patch of blue silk.

He groaned again.

Maybe Stiles should just go to the bathroom - thicker walls in the house, he had checked, thank you very much -, jack himself off and be done with it. But then there was the risk of maybe bumping into her with a fucking boner on his flannel pants and wouldn’t that just be a _joy_.

Stiles rolled in the bed, adjusting his pillow and trying, praying, to get some sleep.

He failed.

He failed hard.

Lydia was a wall away and his thoughts couldn't for the life of him stay still. She had looked so ridiculously cute sleeping on the couch, his cookies gripped on her hands, that he had to fight himself not to carry her to her bed and just tuck her in. But then she could wake up in the middle of it and he had never been that great on the coordination area, so no had been the answer. 

Maybe Stiles should just tell her the truth, barge into her room, declare “I’m your soulmate, you may cry now” and move on.

Maybe it would be healthier for everyone involved.

After all, Lydia hadn’t reacted half bad when he held her hand by the counter, actually she looked so okay with it that for a moment he actually considered close their distance a few inches and... but then there was Kira and the knock on the door and, yeah right, paparazzi were now looking for him.

Stiles wondered if they truly knew who he was or if they were just guessing it was _someone_ from here.

And then he found himself realizing that none of them had thought about checking it – online or just like turn on a TV.

And he was suppose to become a detective.

_Shitty job, Stiles._

He raised his body from the bed only enough to find his phone on the nightstand. It took him about fifteen minutes of Twitter to realize how bad the situation was.

He knew it, he fucking knew it.

Stiles told Scott there was a chick taking pictures of them as he helped him with practice this morning. But of course, he was too suspicious and ill-tempered and _have another coffee Stiles, you're being paranoid_.

Well, there you go.

This time had been a bust - _seriously, how much of an incompetent you have to be to miss that shot?_ -, but whoever this iphone girl was, she gave enough information that the internet didn't have to struggle much to find out his name, or Scott's, probably his hometown and soon enough they would find out about...

Stiles jumped from the bed, almost falling as his feet dangled with the sheets. Once he felt secure enough in his balance, he typed the number by heart and paced across his room - making a mental note to storm into Scott's room and demand that Allison put her Facebook on private. Or at least any post that had to do with him. He could change Scott's profile himself after this call.

And yes, maybe he was being paranoid. But at least this time Stiles would follow his guts.

It took a while before someone on the other side of the line answered.

“Hello, son of mine. Should I worry or just buy you a watch?” his father’s voice came in, sounding completely awake, but also kind of pissed of. Basically Sheriff Stilinski in a nutshell.

“Dad! You saw the news? Has anyone come looking for me?” Stiles whispered frantically.

“I did. I was waiting for you to call, then you didn’t, then I decided to forget about it, since Scott told me everything was alright.”

Stiles stopped in the middle of his room, completely taken aback. “You talked to Scott?”

“Of course I did, Stiles. How else would I know anything about you?”

“You could always, I don’t know, _ask_ _me_.”

A soft chuckle came from the other side of the line. “Right... and to answer your question, no, no one came after you. From what I gather they only know you go to Harvard so far. They could be still caught on traffic too. It’s raining today, and a full moon, you know how things can get around here.”

Stiles had the vivid memory of lighting storms in Beacon Hills ingrained in his mind, thank you very much, so he just hummed in response. “Well, if they do come...”

“Son, are you really going to try and tell me how to avoid reporters?”

“Hm... no?”

“Atta boy. Got a call on hold. Keep me posted.” his father concluded their conversation on his own. “And Stiles?”

“What?”

“Congrats, son.” he said and there was clear laughter in his voice.

“What are you even on about?”

“For finding her, I mean. You've been looking for awhile.”

“Oh.” Stiles found himself smiling a little and maybe for the first time since this whole mess started he felt a surge of pride swell in his stomach at the idea of being Lydia's soulmate. “God, dad, she is...”

“Yeah, yeah. Go write a poem, I have a job to do.” his father interrupted him, Stiles snorted. “Sleep well, son. If you need anything, I'm always one phone call away.”

“All right, thanks dad.”

His father was gone without another goodbye, but somehow Stiles felt incredibly lighter. Maybe he would sleep a little better now. _After he did something that was._ There was a loud crash on the other side of the wall. _Something important_. Something thumped against the cement. _What was it again?_ It had to do with Scott... 

 _Or maybe he wouldn’t sleep at all,_ he thought as he heard movement from Jackson’s room again.

What _was_ she doing?

It seemed to come from her bed none the less.

He drove _those_ thoughts right off of his mind then, cause who knew where they would take him – probably back to the bathroom.

 _Concentrate_ , _Stiles_.

A new crash made him snap his eyes to the thin wall diving the rooms. He touched his ear to the cold cement and actually heard low cursing.

_All right, he might as well deal with it._

Stiles knocked at her door a few minutes later, getting a mumbled “come in” from the inside as an answer. He braced himself and pushed the door in.

The bedroom was completely dark and,  _well, fucking cold as fuck, what the hell?_

“Lydia, why didn’t you turn on the heater?!” he reprimanded at what seemed to be a pile of covers, but looked like the place where the mumbling came from.

She answered him, but it wasn’t really necessary, it took him a second to realize Jackson probably turned the power on his bedroom off _._

_Oh, be more of a paranoid roommate, will you?_

“Shit.” he cursed in a low voice, stopping beside her bed and trying to make her form out of the covers in the light coming through the window, provided exclusively by the full moon. “Shit, you must freezing. And that night gown...”

Lydia huffed, raising enough to sit on the bed, her shadow more discernible now. “I’m fine. I just need something warmer and I’ll be fine.”

Once he heard how shaky her voice was, Stiles almost fell on the floor trying to remove his hoody as quickly as humanly possible, leaving himself with only a white t-shirt and a whole lot of cold - how had she been handling this at all was beyond him. He handed her the article of clothe and for a second he considered maybe Lydia would want something clean, but she put it on without hesitation.

“Oh thank god.” Lydia whispered softly, making his heart clench even tighter in his chest.

Stiles went back to the door, looking for the light switch and turning it on while she protested. He turned to look back at her and his breath got caught in his throat.

Lydia had her hair down, spread against her shoulders. Her face was contorted in a pout, as she crossed her arms across herself tighter. She looked absolutely beautiful and it was so incredibly unfair.

She also looked very cold so Stiles got over himself pretty quickly.

“C’mon, you can sleep in my room.” he said, waiving at her to come.

She shook her head, even though her eyes had brighten at the suggestion. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I have good clothes now so I’ll be...” she patted the mattress uncertain.

“Lydia.”

“Yes?”

“Will you please shut up and come sleep in my bedroom?”

Lydia smirked at that. Then seemed to consider it a valid tactic, because she nodded and got up from the bed.

Stiles tried - _and failed, obviously_ \- to ignore how good she looked in his hoodie and instead opened the door directing her to his room.

She got inside quickly, looking around with a very interested look on her face. Stiles felt strangely insecure, but about what exactly he really couldn’t tell.

Sure his room was a mess, there was that. But at least it didn’t smell like eggs anymore.

He gestured to his bed. “Go ahead.”

She froze on her spot, then looked at the bed, then shivered slightly and finally seemed to have won the battle against herself. Lydia was almost fully covered when she seemed to remember his presence at all. “What about you?”

“Well, I don’t want to brag, but I do have the whooole floor to myself.” he gestured widely at the carpet.

Lydia frowned at that, so Stiles immediately pointed his thumb at the door. “ _Or_ I could just sleep in the living room, the couch is pretty comfortab...”

“No.” she interrupted. Then her eyes closed for a bit as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying next: “ _Or_ we could share.”

Right.

Because _that_ was a good idea.

He hesitated, then he looked at his bed, comfortable, yes, with Lydia on it? Mostly he would be cold sweating the entire night. Stiles eyed the floor instead. With a number of covers on it, it probably wouldn’t feel half bad. He then proceeded to look back at the living room. The couch was perfectly all right as well and the living room heater was just fine. But then again, Lydia would think he was running away from her and it wasn’t like that at all. Ok, maybe it was a bit like that, but not for the reasons she would think it was and...

“Sometimes I feel your brain takes you to so many different directions you’re always five seconds away from crashing.” her voice was sharp, but low; as if it was a thought to herself that she decided to out on the last minute.

Stiles blinked at that, then smiled ruefully. “That would be the ADHD.”

Lydia nodded considering, and proceeded to pat the mattress on the spot beside her. “So? Should I scoot over or...?

“No, I’ll...” he gestured with his hands for her to relax, grabbing some covers from the cabinet over his study table and starting to lay it on the floor. “Another downside from the ADHD is my constant moving around. Not very comfortable for _..._  sharing.” Stiles gulped at the last word but kept his eyes on his task on the floor. He only looked up at her when he felt the sheets were enough to keep him warm and reasonably comfortable.

Lydia was still sat on the bed, staring at him with curious eyes. When she realized he was done, she laid down, making herself more comfortable in his bed and causing Stiles to feel weirdly exposed.

He laid on his own makeshift bed and looked up to the ceiling for about - _exactly_ \- five minutes, before he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Lydia?” he whispered.

She hummed from the bed.

“How... how... I mean, are you ok?”

Stiles heard the sheets being shuffled aside when she turned to look at his direction.

“What?” she whispered back nonplussed.

“With all this happening, I mean." he elaborated, feeling a bit foolish. "I know you’re trying to play it cool and all, but I've seen the amount of security guards you walk around with and you’re usually so private about everything and now we have the whole country on my doorstep and I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to check on you.” Stiles said it all at once, because he was afraid stopping to take a breath would mean stopping all together.

Lydia was silent for so long he started wondering if she was even awake. And then she took a breath. “How do you know I’m usually private?”

“ _Oh_. I...”

ABORT. ABORT. ABORT. ABORT.

“I’m fine.” she didn’t press it, and Stiles felt relief sweep through him. “A bit annoyed if I'm to be honest, but fine. I just want it to be over.”

He considered the answer. “Want what to be over?”

“Just...” Lydia hesitated, as if waiting for the right word to fall from the ceiling to her lap. “ _Everything_. I just want everything to stop being so much.”

“I think I can understand that, weirdly.” Stiles admitted.

“It’s what I love about math.” she quipped suddenly. “Simple, practical results. Nothing is more or less than it should be. No point of view or different references to take in consideration. Just pure and simple facts.”

“And that love for math naturally made you want to become an actress?” he smirked at ceiling.

“ _Well_ , of course. I took a look at my many talents and skills, and considered: what could I do that would potentially waist all of it, piss off my father and at the same time could make people love and fear me?” she raised her arms slightly. “ _Voilá._ ”

Stiles was pretty sure she just had made a confession, but he only chuckled.

"I had a full ride to the MIT, you know?" she whispered suddenly. "I think I still do, actually. They're always sending me letters."

Stiles raised his eyebrows at that. And now maybe fate wasn't revealing itself to be as competent as he had guessed; she could have been studying in the same town as him this whole time. Maybe they would have already met.

"Crazy right? If I had taken it, maybe we would already know each other for a while now." she read his thoughts.

"I don't know, it's not that much of a small town. Would you ever go to a lacrosse game?"

"Probably, why?"

"Scott's team play against the MIT all the time. Maybe we _would_ have met." he wondered how would that be like. Maybe he would see her mark. Maybe he would just want to talk to her because who wouldn't? Only she would probably only look at guys like Scott, or Jackson. Oh yeah, right,  _Jackson_. "You would definitely know Jackson. He's the best player for Lesley University." 

Lydia only hummed at that, seemingly uninterested. Stiles wasn't sure about what part.

“And why are you becoming a detective?”

He raised his eyebrows at her sudden change of subject and absolute correct guess.

“Pretty much all the exactly opposite reasons from yours, I guess.”

Lydia chuckled a bit. 

“Also, Scott needed company here in Cambridge. Dude can't tie his shoe laces by himself.”

“He has Allison.” Lydia said softly.

“Well, I might have shoe lace problems occasionally as well.” he admitted.

“You all met in high school, right? Nerds herding together.”

“Not in the slightest. Scott might have started out as a loser, but he became lacrosse team captain around junior year - that's where his scholarship at Cambridge College comes from. And Allison was popular from the moment she set foot in Beacon Hills.”

“And you?”

“I,  _well_ , Scott met me and decided he was good for life in the best friend department. So whatever position I could or not hold, I was his best friend before anything else. He would drag me up and down his social status.”

Lydia didn't say anything for a while, but finally she scoffed a bit. “How did you two to even meet? You're se different.” she mused, and there was a rare lightness to her voice Stiles was learning to really enjoy hearing. He wished he had a happier answer for her.

“Hospital. My mom was really sick before she died.” he answered slowly, trying to keep his breath to a normal speed and his tone of voice impassive. “Scott’s mother is a nurse. He would be hanging around waiting for her to be off and we would just talk, run, play. The only two kids around, I guess. We were nine.“

“ _Oh_.” Lydia let out softly and he could tell she wanted to know more, but wouldn't press it.

“And Kira?”

“I hired her.”

“Right.”

“Also, she’s a very dear friend, I suppose.” Lydia admitted after a while. “I could see that from the moment she walked in the interview. She was very sweet, but very certain of herself and her abilities. And I could use the sweetness with my mom around.”

“Yeah, I grasped something like that earlier.” he remembered the way Lydia apologized when Kira said she would have to talk to the woman. “Tough is she?”

“More like a control freak. Also my agent.” she answered flatly. Stiles whistled lowly. “ _Yeah_. But it’s not the nightmare you’re probably imagining right now. She mostly means well.”

Stiles didn’t answer her, maybe because he felt she was lying to some degree, maybe because he didn’t know what to say. So when the silence got too heavy this time it was Lydia who was forced to break it.

“Stiles, why didn’t Jackson come?” she whispered, her voice a bit hesitant and Stiles already could tell she was aware of their lies, he just wasn't sure how much she knew about the truth.

“Maybe he was a bit freaked out, a bit insecure. Maybe he wasn't sure you’d like him.” he answered softly and as honestly as he could. “Maybe he doesn’t even know it himself.”

Lydia didn’t answered. He could hear her breathing and tapping her fingers to the mattress, it was the only clue to her still being awake.

“I’m sorry he didn’t come.” Stiles added earnestly.

“It’s fine.” Lydia answered promptly, this time sounding like she had just come to a decision. “I’ll wait for him.”

Stiles heart reached his throat and for a second he was afraid she could listen to his heart beat. “Will you?”

“Yeah.” she mused. And then with a stern voice: “Just make sure he’s here eventually.”

Stile swallowed dry. “I will.”

“All right.” Lydia sighed, adjusting herself in the mattress. “Good night, Stiles.”

“Good night, Lydia.”

He let out a breath of his own. In the back of his mind, Stiles felt there was something important he should be doing, but maybe that something was to try and make himself comfortable on the floor. It failed him and he was still cold and uncomfortable by the time he felt sleepiness surging through him, but weirdly enough there was a small smile plastered across his face.

* * *

* * *

There were a good number of unusual feelings surging through Lydia’s body this morning.

First, there was comfort, such an intensity of comfort that she wasn’t really sure how she would ever manage to get up.

Second, there was warmth, coming from a streak of light surging through the window, heating up her body and ending even the memory of cold she had felt the night before.

Third, there was calm. She was calm even thought in the back of her head Lydia felt she should be nervous about _something_.

She was delved under the covers, her nose firmly pressed against the cottoned sleeve of a hoodie too big for her. The fabric smelled like male deodorant and old books somehow and she wasn’t sure how much of the smell came from the clothes and how much of it was simply the smell of the entire bedroom.

Her right arm hanged from the side of the bed, coming to rest inches away from the floor and she could feel someone's warm breath prickling her fingers lightly. That was enough to make her remember where she was and whose room was this. It didn't make her move though, instead there was a rhythm to his breathing that was about to lull her back to sleep. Only the crack of the door caught her attention and took her out of her slumber, but she still kept motionless, trying to savour this few first moments of the day in peace.

Steps started into the room, but stopped short a second later, the action was followed by a quick intake of breath. After a few seconds though, whoever had come inside seemed to get over the scene in front of them and kept walking around the carpet. There was a bit of opening and closing drawers until finally Stiles seemed to stir in his sleep.

“Whatyouwantscotty.” he mumbled into Lydia’s fingers and she fought the urge to gasp when his nose touched her hand slightly. Apparently he had a thing about nuzzling - not that she minded. It was actually... _endearing_.

“Dude, you have any white t’s left?” Scott whispered back. "I’m all out."

Stiles took a long breath before turning around on the floor, Lydia felt the absence of warmth in her fingers immediately.

She almost complained.

 _Almost_.

“Probably like one... _somewhere_.” Stiles grumbled, his voice still husky from sleep and making things to Lydia's stomach she was desperately trying not to think too much about. She had always been a bit horny in the mornings really, especially after a good night of sleep, nothing unusual about that. “You know, dude, I’m starting to think that maybe,  _maybe_ if we don’t wash our clothes, they won’t ever be clean again.”

Scott snorted, as he kept going through the drawers. “I’m getting that too.”

“Dad always said it.” Stiles whispered mid-yawn. “Didn’t believe him. Thought it was a myth.”

Lydia felt her lips quirking up at that and willed herself to keep still.

“Found one!” Scott cheered and then yelped. “Ouch! _Oh_ , sorry, right.”

“Are there any paparazzi left?” Stiles asked in a whisper.

“Only all of them. Allison went to investigate, said they’re interrogating some students.”

Lydia felt her stomach fall. So Kira hadn’t manage to distract the media after all. _How was she ever going to leave now?_

“What? Is that even legal? No, scratch that, of course it's not legal.” Stiles scoffed and she heard the soft thump of his arms hitting the floor. “Man, it must be a nightmare, this kind of attention 24/7.”

It was like having a cold bucket of water splattered across her face. Lydia felt all the good morning feelings draining out of her at once, because throughout out all of this mess, she never once considered that maybe Stiles wasn’t ready to be the soulmate of a celebrity. She wondered about his father and his life, seemingly so well resolved. Maybe the lack of admission from his part wasn’t just about her in the end. Maybe he just wasn’t ready for the circus.

And honestly she could not blame him.

Lydia tried to imagine how it would be for him to deal with the interviews and attention and the paparazzi, she thought about ill-tempered sarcastic Stiles having to hold back his tong and overthink his answers. Suddenly she realized maybe couldn’t drag him into this at all. Instead, she felt this sudden intense urge to protect him from them, from the reporters and photographers and...

“I guess it’s not as bad as laundry.” Lydia said softly, opening her eyes to find Scott and Stiles staring at her from different directions, but wearing the same surprised expressions. “But I’m not longing for it either.”

Scott smiled at her softly.“Good morning, Lydia. Sleep well?”

Lydia only smiled back as an answer. Scott's hair was wet, he was wearing only a towel tied around his waist and it was funny was objectively she could find him hot as hell and at the same time have absolutely no physical reaction to him. 

“Almost froze to death thanks to Allison, you mean.” Stiles snapped grumpily, pushing the covers aside, his white shirt fitting nicely against his chest. He threw his friend an annoyed look and stared at her in concern. “Sorry about that.”

And that was all that was necessary for her stomach to flutter like she was a teenager and her heart to start beating quickly against her chest, and somehow among all that, she felt her throat going dry.

Because she was way too into this.

And way too fast.

Lydia nodded only, moving to sit on the bed and choosing to address the concern in Scott's eyes, while looking anywhere but at Stiles. “Don't worry, I'm fine. Would be better with a shower though.”

“Yeah, sure! I just finished. You can go ahead.” Scott added excitedly, then he raised the shirt in his hands. “Gotta go, Allison and I are taking rounds to watch the paparazzi. Just an hour ago a girl pass out because she thought she saw a red head, it was awesome.”

Lydia was happy at least someone was taking something good out of this mess.

Stiles nodded, waving his friend off and falling back on the floor as soon as Scott was out of the room. He looked at the ceiling.

“You heard it, right? Paparazzi are...”

“Still here. Interrogating people.” she nodded, pushing the covers away from her and trying to focus on anything that wasn’t his body as he stretched on the floor, his shirt ridding up, revealing his happy trail and a patch of skin that...

“I’ll just... _shower_ , I’ll shower. Then think.”

He chuckled softly at that, raising to a sitting position, hair plastered against his forehead and raised slightly on the back.

She got up from the bed and watched as his smile faltered once he took a look at her.

His soft expression was replaced by something entirely different as his eyes narrowed and his tong darted out to lick his lips. Lydia felt herself heating up everywhere, a jolt of warmth that had nothing to do with any stream of light going from her belly and downwards. Her legs were already a bit shaken and all it took was one look.

_This was not good. NOT GOOD. BAD UNIVERSE, bad._

Stiles shook his head slightly and opened his mouth to say something, his expression intense, but he didn’t seemed to find anything better then a mumbled. “You still have my hoodie on”, even though his tone of voice was way too husky to be only from sleep.

Lydia couldn’t take it, at this point she could either run away or jump his bones.

Apparently, she was a runner with no heels.

“ _Right_. Will get it back to you as soon as I have something new to wear.” she hastily explained as she all but ran away from the room. Lydia could swear she heard a loud groaning as the door closed behind her.

The shower was empty as promised and Lydia welcome the hot water with a sigh. She had no idea what was going on in her head, with her body, or with her goddamned  _feelings_.

She had settled that Stiles was reasonably handsome, but not her usual type. By fucking far that was.

He was a pale, fragile, rude, spastic, prone to disaster, mess of a guy, she reminded herself.

And yet, it was his pale shoulders, his freckled neck, his ridiculous light brown eyes that went through her mind as she lowered her hand down her body to touch herself lightly.

She wondered if he would be as much as a fighter in bed as he was in person, she wondered if he was a quick study in that too. She wondered if he would be considerate and gentle and kind or if his attitude alone would take control over him.

It was his constantly parted lips, his rare soft smile, his long fingers that she imagined and that guided her to her climax. She breathed rapidly and moaned lowly as she wandered how well they would fit, how it would feel to have his hot breath against her lips, her cheeks, her tights, just  _her_.

Lydia came quickly and yet with an intensity she had been lacking for a while.

As she stood there, hot water running down her back, braced against the white tiles, Lydia suddenly realized she had miscalculated everything. And that was a first for her.

She was not ready for this, whatever this was. She was ready to be horny, to laugh, to flirt; she wasn’t ready for the trembling knees, the soft smiles that seemed to surge out of her every time she even thought about him, the... god forbid... _butterflies_.

Lydia was definitely not ready.

And now there were paparazzi outside and no way out of this situation. No way to come back to that damned red carpet. No way to make destiny wait just a bit longer.

There was a towel waiting for her at the other side of the door when she popped her head out to ask for it. She walked into the living room to find Allison sitting on the couch, smiling at her.

“The boys are checking the perimeter. Kira is here.” she informed, eyes glued to the TV. Lydia followed her eyes to find her face plastered on the screen.

“Oh god.” she whispered at the amount of reporters the TV showed surrounding the apartment. She sat down beside Allison. “Where is Kira?”

“Finding you a way out.” Allison informed, she then proceeded to take a pile of clothes from the other side of the couch. “Your _disguise_.”

Lydia took the clothes and analyzed the cap, glasses, flannel pants and, of course, a Star Wars t-shirt. She took one sniff at it and already knew who it all belonged to. It made her heart clench.

“It’s clean, I made sure of it.” Allison said, completely misinterpreting her creepiness, and Lydia snorted in return.

“Thanks.” she answered, getting up to go to Stiles' bedroom and change. “For the towel as well.”

“ _Uh_?” Allison glanced at her, then back at the TV, then back at her again: “ _Oh._ No, that was probably Stiles.”

Of course it was.

Lydia tried not to think about him as she stared at the ruffle of covers on the floor, tried not to remember his warm breath as she put on his shirt, smelling unfairly like him. She tried not to think about the way his eyes narrowed and lips parted when he saw her with no make up on and the messiest hair in the decade. Tried not to think about the intensity in his eyes or the way his tong had darted to his lips. She failed, obviously. _But she tried_. That was the important part.

They were all at the living room by the time she came out. Kira was sitting at a stool, urgently tapping at her phone screen. Allison was talking with Scott in whispers in front of the TV and Stiles was sat on the other side of the counter, staring at a cup of coffee already in hands but seemingly untouched, he looked barely awake.

His head snapped up at the sight of her though and he smiled softly as he recognized the shirt she was wearing. “Already a fan? You watched five minutes of it.”

“Made it way longer than you did then.” he snorted at that and she smiled a bit, braiding her hair distractedly and pulling it into the cap. She raised her arms and cleaned her throat. All eyes went to her. “So? Nerd enough for the likes of you?”

Allison dimpled at her. “You’re unrecognizable. It’s perfect.” she even clapped a bit. Scott only nodded in agreement.

Kira looked up from her phone for a second to give her a thumbs up before frowning and going into another tipping rampage.

Lydia raised her eyebrows at Stiles.

He nodded and something was different about his expression; it was calm, vulnerable, _open_. It was probably the lack of caffein in his system, because he still looked a bit dazed as he shrugged: “Beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

So, she blushed, she did. An actual, full faced, hot cheeked, blush. Lydia hadn’t had one of those since she was fifteen and a teacher told her she could be a real rocket scientist if she wanted to.

“I guess we can go now.” Kira declared finally putting her phone down, apparently completely unaware of the tension around her.

Stiles frowned a bit, actually pouted for a second and Lydia was learning to love uncaffeined, sleep-deprived Stiles. He looked like a five year old trying to understand why he couldn’t have his toy back.

“ _You’re facing the circus?_ ” Scott asked. Face full of concern and Lydia’s heart grew for him too. “Stiles and I were outside a second ago, doesn’t look pretty. I think one of the girls recognized me... she almost _fainted_.”

That memory seemed to jump Stiles out of his sleepiness. His eyes narrowed. “Yes, maybe you should stay a bit longer.”

Maybe she should. But that had not been the decision made, she remembered.

Lydia had to go. At least for a while.

“I do have a life outside, you know?” she remarked sweetly.

Stiles wasn’t fooled, his eyes went to her rapidly.

“I’m well aware of that.” he said in the same tone as hers. “But maybe the three interviews and two shampoo commercials you have scheduled are a bit less important than the horde of paparazzi and teenage girls at my doorstep trying to get to you no matter what.”

Lydia crossed her arms with a huff, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. Kira intervened peacefully: “Look, she will have to go eventually. Better now when they are not expecting. We are in between periods, there will be plenty of students around. We look like students, no one knows me. It’s going to work.”

“I don’t like it.” Stiles stated flatly and Lydia only rolled her eyes.

“Then get over it.” she answered, grabbing her bag on the couch, stopping to give Scott and Alison a hug and holding herself for a moment by the door. “And tell Jackson, tell him I get it. Maybe it’s not the time. Maybe it shouldn’t be rushed.”

She didn’t stay long enough to see if the look of hurt that crossed his features turned into anger.

Kira followed her a few steps behind. “It’s going to work, Lydia. Don’t fret.”

She didn’t and she didn’t have to. They went by inconspicuously with the amount of students that went around trying to reach the campus.

When they finally got away enough to find the car - a popular model because Kira was nothing if not crazy careful -, Lydia jumped into it without thinking twice. Because thinking meant too much right now. Meant going places she didn’t want to before at least having waterproof mascara on.

“It's chaos. Your mother is going insane, the reporters are everywhere, we have about a dozen interviews scheduled, twitter is crashing all the time, there are twins camping in front of your house and...” Kira went on and on, rapidly informing her of all she had missed in the one night she had managed to steal away from her schedule.

And throughout all of it, Lydia clanged to the Start Wars' shirt, caressing her fingers at the soft material, remembering nuzzling and late night conversations, perfect cookies and soft smiles. She started smiling by the time she saw drops of raining colouring her window and it wasn’t five minutes into the car ride she realized there was no going back from this night. No going back to fake smiles and unrecognizable known faces now that she felt her life could be exactly like it was suppose to in the right stories.

If she wasn’t so much into her own thoughts maybe she would have seen the lights coming from the other side of the road.

The way it was she only realized they had been hit when she felt the blood coming from her nose and dropping at the broken window glass under her.

Kira wasn’t talking anymore.


	4. Twitter Crash #5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind was reeling as he followed the doctor through the corridors. It irked him to no end being in this scenario again, visiting someone, searching for the right room, wondering what he would find in it once he got there. He thought he had left that behind him, back in Beacon Hills. Stiles was really tired. He wasn't even sure why, as he dragged his feet through the corridor, forcing his legs to move. It took him a while to realize he was so terrified of what was waiting in the room, he was trying not to get there.
> 
> She's fine. They said she's fine. He kept repeating the words as a mantra in his head. 
> 
> But doctors lied. They had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i have an excuse: loads AND LOADS of papers due. finished. got time again.  
> next chapters are coming a lot faster, i swear.  
> and YES, i said chapterS because i'm weak and probably am not finishing this at chapter 5.  
> anyways, thanks for whoever still reading this. YOU'RE AWESOME <3

There were a thousand reasons why anyone would hate hospitals.

For Stiles there were a thousand and one.

He had about one scrap of memory that related to hospitals and was worth remembering and the reason for that was seated right beside him, holding two cups of hot coffee in his hands, completely aware that not speaking was Stiles' preference whenever hospitals were involved.

The walls were pale, everything smelt clean, everything smelt dirty, and it all felt either too dull or too sharp for his mind.

There were nurses and doctors and patients and visitors walking down stairs, sleeping on the benches, crying in the hallways.

There were a number of reasons why he hated hospitals and a number of those reasons would always bring him back.

Scott's mom was a nurse. _One_. His father had to go recognize or release or guard bodies. _Two_. His mother. _Three_. Scott. _Four_. That one time lack of sleep got the better of him while he was driving. _Five_. Donovan. _Six_. And now. _Seven_.

Seven reasons for hospitals to become his place. Even if a hateful place.

In his school years sometimes he felt he should already have a bedroom of his own on Beacon Hills Memorial. And his own bedroom started to feel like a hospital in many ways.

And then there was Harvard.

And everything worked out nice, easy, simple and now...

 _Seven_.

“She’s awake.” he raised his eyes to stare back at those of an older woman. Her neck was held upright, almost strained, but her eyes were distraught. Still, a familiar pout gracing her features told Stiles that had to be Lydia's mother.

She took her time eyeing him and Scott, her pout turning into a thin line as she took in Stiles' pajamas. When she realized her eyes couldn't magically make him better dressed, she decided to turn her attention towards Scott.

“I am Lydia's mother. Which one of you is... _him_?”

Stiles did not answer, mostly because he did not enjoyed her tone of voice, but also because Scott was usually better at stuff like this anyway.

“He is, Miss Martin.” Scott glanced at Stiles and got up right on his cue, taking her hand in his and smiling his most polite smile. Stiles was sold instantly, that woman probably had the constitution of the devil himself to still be wearing an unimpressed look. “Thank you for letting us know. We’ve been very worried.”

Miss Martin nodded and then looked expectantly at Stiles, expecting him to mirror his friend's behaviour perhaps. But apparently today was no luck day for one more person besides Stiles. So, he simply acknowledged her with a nod.

Surprisingly enough, she seemed to take it better than he thought she would, suddenly wearing less of a frown and more of a curious expression on her face.

“Kira mentioned I should let you know.” she turned her eyes back at Scott, as he released her hand and smiled softly - she still didn’t smile back. That had to be a record. Stiles made a mental note to add her to the _Imunes to Scott McCall's charm_ list. It was a pretty long list so far, consisting of basically him and Scott's mother. Maybe only Scott's mother. “Well, I've informed you of her well-being. There is no other reason to stay. You can go now.”

“No.” Stiles heard himself saying and hated how his voice echoed around the hallways. Why were hospital built like this? What's the possible reason for a place that held so many suffering to be allowed to spread it around so easily?

“I’m sorry?” the woman hissed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking so much like her daughter Stiles only felt his will strengthen.

“No, we are not going.” he repeated flatly. Scott, blessed be his heart, instantly nodded, taking a stance beside Stiles that made him look a lot less like the sweet child he truly was and a lot more like a body guard. "How soon until she can receive visitors?" his eyes scanned the room for any employee who could maybe answer that for him.

“For now, only family members are allowed.” she answered with a finality to her voice he didn't care for at all.

“Miss Martin, maybe we could wait then...” Scott began, but Stiles was already so over it.

Seven reasons hospitals were his place, which meant that as much as he hated it, Stiles had seven reasons to know everything that had to be known about places like this. He could tell which food machine had its snacks replaced recently, which nurse was in charge, who to talk to about a free phone call and, more importantly right now, how visiting worked:

\- Family members were nights and only one at a time.

\- Friends were visiting hours only.

\- And then there were soulmates...

Stiles got up from his seat and walked towards the main counter, completely ignoring any complaints the woman behind him might have had about it.

For the first time in his life this fucking mark would have an actual practical use.

“I came to see Lydia Martin, please.” he said to the attendant behind the counter and maybe Scott had intervened, because Lydia's mother wasn't there to stop him... _yet_. 

The nurse glanced at him skeptically. “And I would like to visit Ryan Gosling in my spare time. But then I would had to get in line and authorised, as you should. Right now is family members only, sweetheart.”

Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes as he pulled the neck of his shirt enough for her to do a double take at the mark on the junction of his shoulder. “And what about soulmates, _sweetheart_?”

He let go of the shirt, as the woman got up from her chair, mumbling about getting a supervisor. Stiles was still watching her go, when a hand came to rest on his shoulders, making him jump.

“So, are we using the soul mark card now? That’s gotta be improvement.” Allison’s voice reached him and he turned to stare at her, as relief flooded through him. He spared a glance behind her and found Scott still standing in front of Lydia’s mother, but she was wearing less of a frown now. Allison followed his line of vision and smiled a bit when she found what he was looking at. “Relax, by the end of the night he’ll be like the son she never had.”

“Meanwhile I’ll be the spawn from hell sent to torture her.” Stiles added unimpressed, noticing at the way the woman kept glancing at him with worried eyes.

“It’s not like you try, so stop bitching about it.” Allison waved off his complaints easily. Then she pointed her thumbs at the hospital's door and her eyes grew a bit. “You have no idea, it’s complete mayhem out there. People are crying, some yelling they are the soulmate, some talking about how the driver who hit them was probably press and this is Diana all over again and... honestly, we’re just lucky Kira got us in.”

He nodded at that, agreeing with her completely. It was lucky that Kira had been awake enough to do anything really, including bringing them in. The girl had a concussion and broke her right leg in tree different places as the car went off road.

But at least she had her seat belts on.

Lydia must have been distracted.

Stiles did not want to remember how he felt when the news splattered across his TV's screen.

He hadn't even finished his coffee yet, was still so fucking irritated with her and with himself and with her going back on her promise of waiting for him – that now he realized was completely stupid to begin with -, and then, as Allison’s eyes widened and she came to sit beside him, staring at the car wreck in the screen, he felt like his soul was slowly being drained out of his body.

Scott had drove his jeep along a mass of reporters and fans that seemed to get the same info about where she was taken as them. Then they were outside. Looking at the amount of people around them and not sure how to proceed.

And that had been when the security guard, Brett, had found them. He recognized Stiles at once and told him about Kira already being awake. Ten minutes later the horde of fans and paparazzi were left behind as they walked through the sliding doors and into Stiles' personal hell.

But she hadn’t been severely bruised, Stiles got that from the doctor’s tone of voice, as he explained to a still in a wheelchair Kira what was going on. Apparently Lydia had been lose on the car and for that reason only was knocked out so easily. She was probably luckier than Kira in that sense, they only had to run some more tests to make sure everything as alright.

Kira went back in to rest not long after that, leaving Stiles and Scott to wait for about four hours as Allison went back to Lesley University, to try and take a test she probably flanked.

Scott had been in silence for most of the time, only getting up to get snacks and drinks and an occasional trip to the bathroom. This was routine for them. They knew their way around hospitals and especially around waiting.

“You’re fine. She knows you’re here.” a bald black guy in his mid-fifties informed him, making Stiles turn in his heels. The man took his ID and picture, before pasting a VISITOR tag on the front of his t-shirt.

When he gestured for Stiles to follow him, Allison started moving towards Scott with an encouraging smile. “We'll hold her back if she tries something.”

Stiles only nodded at her.

His mind was reeling as he followed the doctor through the corridors. It irked him to no end being in this scenario again, visiting someone, searching for the right room, wondering what he would find in it once he got there. Stiles thought he had left that behind him, back in Beacon Hills. Last time he had been in a hospital he was checking if Scott had taken lunch to his mother, it was silly and innocent and harmless, and he wished it was still this way. Now he added one more, one more memory, one more concern. Stiles was really tired. He wasn't even sure why, as he dragged his feet through the corridor, forcing his legs to move. It took him a while to realize he was so terrified of what was waiting in the room, he was trying not to get there.

 _She's fine. They said she's fine._ He kept repeating the words as a mantra in his head. 

But doctors lied. They had before.

_She's fine. _She's fine. _She's fine.___

His fingertips were buzzing, as if an electric current was spreading through his body. He knew this feeling well. Anxiety was just an old companion at this point. So he kept going. 

The doctor surprised him by not coming into the room. He stopped at the door and simply gestured for Stiles to get in.

He did.

The place was dark, but her face was so damned white it froze him in his tracks.

Stiles felt the buzzing slowly dissipating, giving place to something stronger, something that made his knees weak, but not in a good way - he was angry. Angry at himself for not stoping her as she left - he had known it was a bad idea, why he insisted in not following his guts? -, at the driver who had missed the light and drove them off road, at the universe that had brought him here, at so many things.

And then she opened her eyes, frowned, and finally seemed to recognise him among the darkness. Her expression softened immediately.

And suddenly there was no anger, no sorrow, just a bit of lingering anxiety and _gratitude -_  such immense gratitude that she was alright.

Stiles took a few steps into the room hesitantly, coming to a stop near her bed. Her eyes followed him and once he was close enough for her to see him right, she frowned again.

“You look distraught.” Lydia whispered innocently. “What happened?”

He almost didn't chuckled at that - he did, because he was simply weak, but still, she did not deserve it, let that be registered. -, releasing a long breath that spread out of him, taking the buzzing out with it. “ _You_ happened. In my life. Jesus, Lydia, you almost gave me a heart attack. Would it have killed you to put on your seatbelt in the car? Do you know how many commercials they have about that? You probably starred one or two, actually.”

“Stiles...” she coughed a bit, making him rush to her side. He grabbed a glass of water on her bed side and offered it to her. She took it with a small 'thank you', but he was still too mid-rant to care.

“...and what was that _it shouldn't be rushed_ bullshit?!" Stiles went on, now adjusting her pillow expertly. "You didn’t seemed to be worried about that when you came barging into my house and into my life. And it's been like what? Three, four  _fucking_ days?! And I’m already at a HOSPITAL.”

“Stiles.” Lydia tried again, and this time her voice had more of the strength he was used to. It still wasn't enough to stop him though.

“Do you know how many times I considered something actually serious could have happen to you? Like, it's been almost five hours? Do you how fast by brain goes? How many scenarios I already made up?! And it could be true! Something really bad could have happened and you would have been...”

“STILES!”

“Hey don’t shout, this is a hospital.” he reprimanded and then retreated completely as Lydia glared at him. “Or do. Your room, your choices.” he raised his hand in front of him in a surrender gesture.

She took a breath instead, adjusting on the bed and finally setting her gaze at his face.

“Stiles...” she continued with a bit of a pissed of tone of voice and he prepared to be reprimanded, but she hesitated once he started disentangling her SIV lines like a pro, then her eyes went back to his face and something like comprehension took over her expression. “I’m sorry. About everything. Next time I’ll wear the seatbelt."

Stiles nodded, sensing her tone of voice changed completely but not even remembering what she was apologising for. He was too busy trying to scan her face for any signs of injury the doctor might have missed - but aside from a thin scratch ate her right temple everything seemed to be just fine.

"And the _not rushing it_ thing  _was_ complete bullshit.” she added.

He nodded again distractedly as he checked her arms and legs and then:

“ _Oh_.” his eyes snapped back at her and she was smiling knowingly. “So you take back what you said.”

Lydia hummed a bit. “I’m not sure. I said it to _Jackson_ , but I guess he’s not here to hear it so...”

She stared at him expectantly and Stiles suddenly realized he somehow hadn't actually told her yet that he was her soulmate. It was now so foreign to him why would that be the case. There were paparazzi looking for him, he had deleted his facebook page completely just this morning and yet, somehow, she still technically didn't know it _from him_. Obviously, she did know, as she was a genius and all, but still... this situation was simply ridiculous.

He chuckled, shaking his head and then scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. “Oh my god... I still... I’m sorry. I just _panicked_ , I don’t really know why I even started lying and now we're here and this is absurd. And do you hate me right now? I do. I mean, hate me a little bit, but I always kind of had, so that's not news. But then again you kind of always hated me a little bit too, I guess I'm just not likeable, my dad used to say I...”

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him.

"I'm stopping." he put his right hand over his mouth.

She was smiling though, only so, but still. It was something. Stiles let out a breath.

“I’m really happy you’re okay.” he said honestly, and placed his hand carefully over one of her own.

And then a funny thing happened as funny things tend to in Stiles life.

Lydia was still being monitored, heartbeat included of course, which meant that the second his hand touched hers the machine beeps around the room suddenly became uncomfortably faster.

Stiles stared at it confused, then as he understood what was happening he looked back at her in surprise. Lydia raised her eyes coldly as only Lydia could do in a embarrassing situation, as if defying him to laugh at her.

He didn’t laugh though, he didn’t felt like it, he felt... he didn’t know how he felt.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked instead, still kind of concerned she was having a sudden complication.

"I'm perfectly fine." she answered composed, even though her heartbeats were still screaming around the room to anyone who would hear that _fine_ wasn't the exact word for what she was feeling. 

So Stiles tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows at her and, before Lydia opened her mouth to say anything else, he gently grazed his thumb on the back of her hand.

The beeps went louder, faster and, as the sound filled up the room, Stiles felt his lips starting to curl into a smirk. He glanced at her and the confrontation was gone from her eyes, replaced by a huff of acceptance. "Don't get too big-headed about it."

Stiles' smile grew, as he slowly turned her hand and proceeded to drag his index finger through her palm lines, listening as the sounds guided him to where it made her more nervous. Then he enlaced her wrist with his fingers, finally raising her pulse to his lips and kissed it lightly.

The machine went insane and Stiles found that if he were to be monitored, his heart was probably not falling behind in this race.

“You know...” she whispered, scratching her throat, but eyes following his every movement as he lowered her hand back on the mattress. “You panicked over nothing really. I mean, this could be platonic, right?”

Stiles found himself raising his eyes at her her face and smiling at the actual considering expression she was wearing. “Yes, Lydia.” he agreed with a chuckle. “It _could_ be.”

Then he noticed the way she was grasping his hand in hers still and gently squeezed it. Her heartbeat accelerated slightly, before going back to its normal pace.

“Shit.” she whispered, and Stiles found himself laughing again.

* * *

* * *

It went by on a haze.

Before Lydia realized she was out of the hospital it seemed she had been in a hundred different talk shows, gave a hundred and one interviews, and talked to about a hundred and two followers on Twitter.

And she was exhausted. But also she felt a bit like herself again.

Her make up was perfect, her dress was impecable, she smiled with a reasonable perception of what she was smiling about. So maybe it was really less about feeling like herself and more about being back in control.

And then there were the nights.

Nights when she would lay in the best sheets of the best hotels in town and feel so incredibly bothered by it. Because it was too warm, or too quiet, or too empty.

Kira made her best to keep her on her toes. She would brief her twice a day. Text her to remember her medication, to remember that one fan that said they were feeling down, to smile while telling Stephen Colbert about that one time they almost knocked each other down on the red carpet.

Even her mother seemed to be scared enough since the accident that she was trying to make Lydia more comfortable.

But still. It all felt a bit flat and she couldn’t quite understand why.

And then that one night she finally did.

“What about this rumor that has been going on about Luke being Rey's father...?”

Lydia snapped her head so fast to the hosts that she was pretty sure she got a some kind of muscle injury.

The question was for Harrison Ford, not her. But still, Lydia felt herself paying attention closely. Unfortunately, the star singer - Bieber? Was him Bieber? Who could tell it this days? - seemed to notice her sudden interest.

“I think we have a fan here.” he said _cheerly_ \- not Bieber then. Lydia had no idea who he was. Was he even introduced?

The host smiled at her with enthusiasm. “Oh really, Miss Martin?”

_Oh right._

_Not really._

Lydia smiled her best interview smile. “I’m afraid I’ve only watched the fourth episode and about half of it at that. From what I got it was pretty good though.”

That got her some laughter from the audience and a skeptical smile from Harrison Ford.

“You seemed pretty excited when we mentioned it though.” the host pressed.

“Yes, I have a... _uh_... friend. He’s very passionate about it” she answered and hoped to god she wasn’t blushing right now. But maybe God had his earplugs on, because the presenter's smile grew notably.

“A friend, I see. We all got those, right?” the woman batted her lashes at the camera.

Lydia kept smiling, not sure on what to answer. This part had not been on her briefing.

“So, since we’re in this topic of _friends,_ what about that special one of yours, Lydia, the one we all want to hear about?” the woman’s smile was predatory and Lydia thought that if she concentrated enough she would probably be able to hear the tantrum Kira was throwing at the backstage right now.

“The lucky one thing, right? I love that story!” the singer interveened and Lydia felt she could strangle him with a mic cord anytime soon.

They all kept staring at her, so she perked herself on the couch and threw a bit of hair behind her shoulders. “Well, I’m sure he is very exited about Luke being Rey's father.”

The audience laughed and the presenter’s eyes flashed with anger, but Lydia had been trained for this. The woman could not simply ignore the topic now that Lydia had brought it back into the conversation.

“So he knows something I don’t, sweetheart.” Harrison Ford answered before anyone else could say something.

Lydia always had a feeling Han Solo would be there for her in a moment like this and he did not disappoint.

The interview went on according to the plan after that and it wasn’t until Lydia was already back at her dressing room that she heard from Kira.

Lydia chuckled at the text message, as she sat in front of the vanity table. She was about to put her phone down and fix her make up when it started to ring.

 **Allison**.

Lydia picked it up unsure on why her stomach dropped only slightly. After Stiles' visit her mother had ushered her away from the hospital and then from the country. It had been days since she heard from any of them. That Allison would be the first one to make contact was a bit irritating as it was incredibly predictable.

“Hello?”

“What were you doing taking the question away from Ford like that? We all wanted to know if Luke is Rey's father!” the girl laughed at the other end of the line; Lydia could hear some voices on the background.

“Hey, it went back to him in the end. Not my fault he didn’t want to answer. And you can blame Bieber guy for the interruption.” she answered, resting back on her chair.

“ _Was_ that Bieber? Scott was waging on it but I wasn’t so sure.”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

Allison chuckled on the other end and Lydia waited patiently for the subject they both knew had to come up at some point in this conversation.

“He freaked out a bit. Went out for a run.” she said, not giving herself the trouble of explaining it any further. “Didn’t turn off the TV or break anything though, so that's progress.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I've been trying to text him. He won’t answer.”

“That’s weird. He said you’ve been radio silent. Tried to act all casual about it too, you know how he gets.”

And Lydia did, which was pretty ridiculous considering the amount of time the knew each other. But also, he hadn't been ignoring her apparently, or was he lying about it to his friends?

“I texted him.” she insisted and heard as Allison passed on the information to someone, probably Scott.

“Scott says his phone is probably acting out again.” _Nailed it._

She listened as Allison went on some more about it with her boyfriend. Finally, they seemed to reach a decision. “Look, when he is back I’ll make him text you from my phone, ok? You two are absurd.”

Lydia laughed a bit, suddenly feeling a knot she had no idea was there dissolving in her stomach. “All right. I gotta go now.”

“Okay. You were great today, by the way. Also, you should come by once you’re back in the area. We miss you!”

Allison had a real gift of saying sweet things like that without sounding condescending about it. Lydia smiled at her own reflection on the mirror. She kind of missed them as well.

She hanged up just as Kira barged into her dressing room complaining about a number of things and all of it not really Lydia’s problem. The girl went off just as quickly as she came in, ranting on about how everyone was too ambitious and what the world had come to. Lydia didn’t feel her input was actually needed, so she kept quiet aside from an occasional hum of agreement. The host inconvenience this night was not that different from the many question she had gotten since this whole thing started. She was fine.

Her phone buzzed on the table, just as the door closed behind Kira.

 

 

Lydia smiled, she was beyond fine. Her stomach fluttered as she eyed the words, she could almost hear his voice saying them. 

 

Lydia felt herself blushing on the last one, but this time she didn't tried to suppress it because 1) she was alone in the dressing room and 2) what was the point after that performance at the hospital?

And what did she do to his wrist again? She didn’t even remember touching him that night - but then again she _had_ waken up to find her hands an inch to his, so there. Lydia realized belatedly this was not his phone.

Lydia chuckled at his excitement.

 

 

Her phone buzzed with another message. This number she didn’t recognize.

 

_ _

Lydia smiled at that. As freaky as this whole thing was, it was great to know she wasn't the only one acting like a complete fool.

 

Lydia laughed out loud, shaking her head at their antics.

Her heart leaped a bit at that, but she hesitated before typing:

 

It was like she could hear the deadpanned tone of his voice.

 

Kira opened the door then, gesturing at her to come urgently.

 

It took a minute longer for the final message to come, but Lydia felt herself relaxing as she read it.

 

__

* * *

Stiles was not a celebrity.

Truly, he wasn't.

Like, once in fifth grade a guy was murdered and Stiles naturally found imperative to go and take a look at the body, since nothing ever happened in Beacon Hills. So he had gotten closer to the crime scene and somehow somewhere someone took a picture of the place and had his nine year old blurred face included in it, and then somehow somewhere someone decided that was the perfect illustration for an article on the rise of crime rates in Beacon Hills - granted, the newspaper was probably desperate at this point.

Long story shortened, his father took one look at it, then one severe look at Stiles and proceeded to have the newspaper page framed and hanged on the living room. Because in a way, his son was in the news and that was probably going to be an one time thing.

So Stiles was not famous.

He was not.

So not famous.

Fact that required the follow question to be ~~yelled~~ asked: 

"Honestly, dude, why are you following me?!?"

The dude was actually a girl. Probably a fifteen year old girl. She had blue hair and cartoonish spooked eyes as she stared up at him.

"I... I..." she let out a nervous giggle. "I'm from the Lydia Martin's fan club and we wanted to..."

Stiles tried hard not to roll his eyes.

Okay, maybe he hadn't tried at all, but somewhere in his mind he was aware he should have tried and that was progress.

"A picture? A signature? A strand of hair? Honestly, sweetie, I do not have Lydia in my pocket here so it's not like I could just..."

"Y-y-yo-yours...?" she tried again, now looking everywhere but at his face.

It took him longer than he was used to for his brain to catch up with her meaning. But maybe that had to do with the fact that, again, HE WAS NOT FAMOUS.

"You want my picture?" he blinked at her in confusion.

"Yes." she agreed, this time a bit more controlled. "Maybe a s-s-se-elfie?"

_She is a kid. She is a kid. She is a kid._

Stiles was wearing a stained - blame coffee - Stud-Muffin shirt, jeans and no dignity. No, he was not available for pictures. Try again tomorrow.

He tried to tell her that with around three neck spams and a very clear clench of teeth. It was no use though.

"Look, I got a test and a... you know... life. So no." he gave her a thumbs up, which Stiles figured meant everything was fine and right in about half of the world's culture.

But apparently the rule did not apply to Lydia Martin's fans.

The girl started crying.

So he just left.

That was how Stiles ended up glaring at his couch while Jackson slurped some diet ice cream thingy and took full advantage of the situation.

"Tell me again, you left a girl crying on the sidewalk?" he was laughing, the idiot thought that was the correct response to the situation. 

"Remind me again why I put up with your ass in my living room?" 

"Because Scott likes everyone given time and you're too poor to pay rent by yourself." Jackson answered easily.

"Of course." at this point Stiles figured it was better to actually sit at the couch instead of just keep staring at it.

"Hey, at least the reporters are gone."

Which was true. Not that Stiles would admit to Jackson having a point ever. But still... he kind of did.

The reporters had left once the police was called in and so far aside from some camera flashes he thought he saw here and there, they were apparently busier trying to get a hold of Lydia herself.

He even saw some articles claiming he wasn't the soulmate at all and his father hadn't given anything up on him so far. That one quote of Coach Finstock saying "that kid Biles was a hyperactive disaster" was maybe used once or twice, but did not catch on as some people claimed the guy not the most trustworthy source.

They even tried to go after Professor Richards and Stiles still had war flashbacks on the extremely displeased expression the man wore towards him for the rest of the class - he hadn't said a thing to the reporter though.

Aside from that, Stiles didn't have enough friends in Harvard for anyone to know enough to put him in trouble and his actual friends - that DID NOT include Jackson, but him too - would simply not say anything.

So there were the fans. And all in all, they were supposed to be the least of his problems. 

Honestly, what could a bunch of fourteen year olds really do? 

Apparently a lot.

"Is that the tenth girl already?" 

"Twentieth." he muttered, now glaring at the TV instead of the couch.

"Jesus, and all that for you. Imagine if I was the soulmate?" Jackson's weigh on the couch threw Stiles a bit off-balance.

Stiles just stared at him and tried to show in his eyes the amount of revulsion he was feeling at the thought of having to watch Lydia and Jackson parade as the perfect couple around red carpets everywhere. Which of course took his line of sight straight to the counter and how long was it long enough to call your celebrity soulmate without looking like a pathetic stalker/loser in the process?

Stiles didn’t know.

Nor did he care.

Because apparently Scott had left his phone behind and this was as good of time as any.

He jumped from the couch and took a few steps to reach the counter, ignoring Jackson's eyes on him.

"Isn't that McCall's phone?"

Stiles did not answered, tapping his fingers against the screen and unlocking the password.

 

 

He threw the phone back at the counter and sat down on the stool beside it, shaking his leg up and down.

Nothing.

She was obviously busy, of course she was.

Probably giving an interview, or saving orphan children or winning nobel prizes. He got up form the stool, pacing a bit on the living room.

Two minutes.

Was that a normal amount of time it took to see a text? Was he crazy for expecting she would answer him at all?

Maybe she realized what she was getting into to.

Maybe this was all for the best.

Maybe this was the exactly amount of time they needed to figure out if it was really that necessary to keep contact at all.

Maybe it was even better for him as well.

He didn’t care.

Not anymore.

Maybe he should make some cookies...

He almost knocked down the stools when the phone buzzed and somewhere in the living room he just _knew_ Jackson was shaking his head at him.

 

“Oh thank god”. Stiles let out a breath.

He cared.

He cared so much it was ridiculous.

He tapped his fingers against the screen rapidly, while trying to take the phone away from Jackson line of view - apparently watching from afar wasn't enough for him and he was now reading behind Stiles' shoulder.

"Oh they did?" Jackson munched on his ice cream.

Surprisingly enough, once Stiles stared at him with nothing but revolt in his eyes, Jackson seemed to take a clue and step away from the counter with a muttered "don't care anyway".

The phone buzzed in his hands and Stiles felt his lips curling into a smile.

Stiles was about to ask her when she would be in the area again - because _yes_ , he had no dignity left -, when he felt the phone buzzing in his hands. The smile fell from his face as he read the message in Scott's phone.

 

 

* * *

Lydia sighed as she checked her phone for the hundredth time. It had been a week already.

He hadn’t called, he hadn’t texted. She got one snark filled conversation and that was it. Stiles was back to radio silence.

Even worse, Scott and Allison were also of no help. For some reason, they all had decided to just ignore her.

And honestly?

She was a bit over it. Way too over it. And when Lydia got over some issue the first thing she did was to try and think how to get back on it.

So, the idiot couldn't find himself a phone?

She was a millionaire ascending actress. She had about five iphones sitting around somewhere in her Los Angeles' house.

Now, maybe the idiot wouldn’t take the phone if she sent it to him?

That’s even easier. She would hunt him down and shove the damned thing down his throat.

So, that was how she ended up standing in front of the familiar white door of Stiles' apartment, no Kira in town, but a very disapproving looking Brett following her every step.

And then she knocked. Even though she wasn’t sure if anyone was at home. Even though she was pretty sure at this point that for some reason he did not want to see her.

The door opened though, to reveal a ridiculously good looking guy on the other side. He looked her up and down, and he was neither Stiles or Scott so she figured:

“Jackson.” she said his name appraisingly.

The guy smiled a GQ magazine smile and Lydia found herself instantly charmed by him.

“Lydia Martin.” he pronounced her name cooly, crossing his toned arms over his chest. “I’m going to admit, at some point I thought those idiots were being delirious, but here you are.”

The way he said _idiots_ gave her the impression that even though he liked the guys there was no joke to the word. He really thought they were idiots. Which, in her current state of mind, made Lydia like him even more.

“I guess you were my soulmate at some point.” she mentioned. “Shouldn’t you invite your potential soulmate in?”

Jackson smirked at that, nodding slightly. “Of course.”

He took a step back, gesturing openly with his hands for her to come in.

She did, a second after indicating with her eyes to the bodyguard that she should stay behind.

Lydia walked into the living room, checking out the place. It looked the same as usual, no blood on the floor, no yellow tape - not a single reason why every single resident of the apartment decided she was not worth communicating with anymore -, the only misplaced things seemed to be a shirt hanging here or there.

She turned back to see Jackson closing the door behind him - he had been clearly checking out her ass. So, jackass with a face sculpted by the gods apparently; precisely the guy she would have fallen madly in love back in high school.

“You have any idea when either of them will be back?” she asked, sitting on the couch and making herself comfortable to wait.

She would have Stiles with an iphone by the end of the day, or so help him god.

Jackson chuckled. “Either of them?” he raised his eyebrows, leaning back on the wall by the door. “Well, I guess if you think about it you have been soulmated to each one of us in a way or another, so you’re probably not that picky right?”

Lydia flashed a glare at him that actually made him recoil a bit - she felt accomplished. “I’m not sure I care enough to work an answer for your rudeness, Jackson.”

“And yet you expect answers from me.”

“I expect nothing aside from civil behavior, but I guess that’s a lot to ask from dicks.” she took her phone out of her Prada purse and did not spare another glance at the guy. “I’ll just wait then.”

His laugh almost dragged her eyes from her phone, but she managed to keep the cool facade. “You and him must get along just _fine_.”

Lydia didn’t answer.

“He’ll be home soon. Scott probably has late practice, but Stiles can’t hang on the some place for more then a couple hours and it’s been two since he went to the library.”

Lydia finally raised her eyes from the phone and found him smiling. It was different now, a bit less predatory, way more empathetic. She realized he had been putting up a front before.

Testing her? _Again_?

What was it with this people?

Was Stiles some sort of delicate flower?

“You are all very suspicious and protective for a bunch of college kids.” she said flatly.

Jackson’s face contorted a bit. “There are reasons for that, trust me. We have known each other for a while.”

“I see... You don’t seem like the type to get along with Stiles, to be honest.” In fact he looked like he was been kept by force in this apartment of nerds.

“I didn’t, and then life happened.” he answered, scratching his perfectly shaved chin. Then his tone went down, as if it was hard to whisper the next words. “Truth is, he grows on you.”

That made Lydia smile a bit. “I’ll bet he does.”

Jackson's expression went from hesitation to complete disgust as he caught on to her words. “Oh god, please don’t.” he shook himself a bit.

Lydia laughed. “You know, I think you and I would have gotten along in high school.” she mentioned.

Apparently he registered her friendlier tone of voice, because he walked a few steps and came to plop down at the sofa next to her. “Prom queen?” he guessed, Lydia nodded. “Prom king.” he pointed at himself. “How did we end up here?”

Lydia contemplated a bit. “Life some times.”

“Right?” he took the remote and turned on the TV in a swift motion that if Stiles were to mimic would probably result in a world wide electronic collapse. “Wanna watch Dancing With Stars?”

Lydia got even more comfortable on the couch. “Why not?”

And that’s how she had spend her afternoon with Jackson Whittemore (from the Whittemore’s of Beverly Hills, he found necessary to inform her), constantly looking at her phone to check how many hours had it been since she had gotten here.

“She's bending her knees wrong.” Lydia glared at the tv as if it were to blame for Stiles' absence. “And you said a couple of hours.”

“I said a couple of hours _per place_. Maybe he just went somewhere else, who knows.” Jackson answered laid back, popping some pop corn he had microwaved a few minutes before.

He offered it to her, but she refused it. Jackson threw a look at her feet. “You can go looking for him, you know... it might cause some disturbance around the campus, but it would still be better than making a hole in my carpet with your heels.”

Lydia stopped shaking her leg instantly, she wasn’t sure when she had began in the first place. Maybe Stiles was rubbing off on her.

“Sorry, I just have to be somewhere tomorrow, so I can’t stay late and...” she started but shut up immediately as she heard the sound of keys on the door. Lydia put her phone away and tried to act composed. Jackson, to his credit, didn't move a muscle at her sudden change of behavior.

She knew it was him the second the door opened and the distinct sound of keys falling to the floor and low cursing was heard. Jackson seemed to recognize his friend’s voice as well, because his eyes turned from the TV, to the door, to Lydia, seemingly just as happy to entertain himself with watching them as he was with Dancing With Stars.

Stiles got in and it would have been funny to watch the way his expression turned from mild annoyance to complete shock, if Lydia wasn’t feeling just as stunned.

He had around five books on his arms and a beaten up bag hanging from his shoulders. His shirt was kneaded, his jeans a bit torned, his hair was just a mess. And yet, all she could focus was the tiny cut on his lips as they parted when he saw her and the huge red swelling around his right eye.

She stood up, abandoning all pretence of coolness. “What the hell happened to you?”

Stiles eyes narrowed then and Lydia knew that indicated trouble. So did Jackson apparently, because he jumped out of the couch and excused himself quickly into his bedroom, taking the popcorn with him.

Stiles ignored his roommate - and Lydia, for that matter -, taking the time to put his books on the counter, before finally turning to look at her. She had know idea what her expression was right now, but whatever he say in her face made him close his eyes slightly and then pass his hands through his face - apparently forgetting about the injuries -, proceeding to wince immediately.

All in a matter of seconds.

Lydia fought the urge to go to him.

“Hello to you too.” he said, and the exhaustion on his voice placated her anger almost instantly.

“What happened to you?” she asked again, this time almost as a whisper. “You stopped answering, Scott did too, I got...” Lydia stopped mid sentence. “Stiles, what happened to you?” her voice was more controlled now.

Stiles made a move to touch his forehead, but this time remembered to stop. He let his hands fall with a frustrated huff. Then smiled uncertainly. “Well, I’m... I'm not sure how to explain.”

She waited for something else, but not much came. Stiles sighed. “We got the killer, you know? Left-hande... yeah, you know that. Anyway, things got a bit complicated after that. Very complicated. It's solved though, I think it is. Buy then again..."

"Stiles." she tried.

"Yeah, you're right. Enough about me. What are _you_ doing here?”

Lydia tried and pretended the last sentence didn’t sting a bit, but apparently her oscar nomination had been a fraud, because he caught on quickly, raising his hands slightly in her direction. “I mean, no! I don’t mean it... Not like that... I’m _glad_ you’re here, I just didn’t think...”

“I was worried.” she replied simply, before he ran out of words to ramble - she wasn't sure that was possible, but still.

He opened his mouth and then closed it, did it again, and then finally nodded. “Thanks.” Stiles threw her a half smile - so soft she felt her insides melt.

So naturally before she realized what she was doing, Lydia had already taken a few steps in his direction. She stopped right before him and raised a hand to his face before she realized what she was doing. His breath hitched, but Lydia didn't touch him, she wasn’t sure how to.

“I...” she let her hand fall back. “Does it hurt?”

Stiles chuckled softly. “Yes.”

“Obviously.” she rolled her eyes at herself. “Sorry, I don’t know how to help and I get weird when I don’t know things.”

Stiles shrugged casually. “Well, the put your lips on it thing helped last time” his tone of voice was playful, as he was clearly just trying to make her feel better.

But Lydia was never one to step back from a challenge. Also that would give her something to do - something she _knew_ how to do.

So she smiled slightly at him. “Did it then?”

His face turned serious at once at her tone of voice. She waited a bit for any reaction, before stepping slightly into him and rising to her tiptoes. His breath hitched as Lydia slowly nuzzled against his cheek. She supported both of her hands on his chest, before grazing her lips against the red skin around his eyes.

Lydia felt her fingers delve into his shirt unwittingly, so she hastily pressed an almost-not-there kiss to his skin before she couldn’t control herself any longer. She fell back to her feet, ridiculously shook and found his eyes were closed, his expression indecipherable.

So Lydia took a second to calm the beating of her heart, before raising her eyes to him.

“Better?” she whispered, going for a light tone of voice, but failing at that too.

Stiles let out a shaken breath and smiled softly, finally opening his eyes. The intensity she saw there almost took her own breath away. And before she could say anything else, his head fell into her, his forehead touching her shoulders.

“So much better.” he breathed against her neck and Lydia felt shivers running down her spine.

Her hands raised at their own accord, one coming to rest on the nape of his head and the other circled his shoulder. She hugged him closer into her and he came easily. It took a few seconds, but when his hands finally came up to rest around her waist and he better adjusted his head to fit the crook of her neck, Lydia felt the nervousness that had been plaguing her for a week finally settling down.

She felt relieved.

“Thanks for not asking more about it.” his muffled voice sounded against her neck.

“Oh, don’t be fooled.” Lydia felt her lips quirking as she ran her fingers through his hair, causing him to practically purr. She smiled. “I’ll ask plenty once you stop looking at me as if Rey was not Luke's daughter.”

Stiles chuckled against her neck, before suddenly processing her words and raising his head again to stare at her in shock. Lydia almost whimpered at the loss of contact, but as his hands were still around her waist, she allowed it.

“So she _is_  Luke's daughter.” he narrowed his eyes.

Lydia smiled a bit and then rolled her eyes. Stiles punched the air. “I knew it! Harrison could never hide stuff from me! He has a tell, you know.”

Now he had let go of her completely.

Well, Lydia accepted that and stepped backwards, turning around to grab his iphone. Only a pair of hands grabbed her by the waist turning her back to him. She stared up at Stiles to see him looking at the placement of his hands in complete confusion, as if they had betrayed him.

“Sorry.” he jumped away from her like he had been shocked and raised his hands in front of him. “You stepped away, I panicked.”

Lydia tried to ignored the way her stomach flipped and her face flushed ridiculously at those words. She rolled her eyes at him again. “Well, I’m going two steps away, try to be prepared.”

He nodded obediently, placing his hand behind his back. Lydia chuckled a bit at the scene, finally turning to grab the white box inside her purse.

She looked back at Stiles, he was eyeing the object curiously. “You say yes, alright? I don’t wanna hear it from you. Or better, I want to _hear_ from you and that’s why you gotta have it.” she insisted, raising the box to him and shoving it in his hands.

Lydia bit the inside of her mouth, waiting for him to put up the fight she had prepared herself for all the way here.

Stiles didn’t dispoint.

His face fell, lips turning downwards as he took a look at the cover. He then handled the box back to her without a second look. “Sorry, I can’t take it.” he stated flatly.

“Too bad. I’m not taking it back.” she began her perfectly prepared argument. “You sell it if you want to, or trade it with Scott, or only use it to talk to me you know, like a walkie talki...”

“Lydia, I’m not taking it.” he interrupted her.

 _Ohhhh_ , Lydia hated to be interrupted.

“Stiles _, you are taking it_. I don’t care if I have to hire a body guard whose only job and purpose in life will be to carry that iphone around you. I’ll hire him big and smart and you’ll have no escape. I am not, listen to me, NOT going without hearing from you again _. Got it_?!” she stepped into him and felt about a head taller by anger alone.

He stared at her, lips parted, before getting a hold of himself.

“You are... _impossible_.” he whispered, raising his hands to his face again, only to rub his black eye accidentally. He hissed. “Just _goddamm_... this fucking th... Okay, Lydia, I'll be clear, all right? It is already ridiculous that I get to spend time any with you only because of a... an arbitrary mark..." he stepped away, throwing his hands in the air. " _Now I’m getting iphones_?!"  

She watched calmly as his body went from one spastic motion to other, wondering how was that possible he still hadn't break anything. He went back to her finally, looking a bit more controlled.

Stiles took a deep breath. "It's just... if you knew _anything_ about me you’d understand why I cannot accept that.” his voice gained strength as he finished his argument and now Lydia was not sure who held the ground.

“What do you mean spend time with be _only_ because of a mark?" she asked sweetly. "Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was being a bother.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“ _And_ if I don’t know anything about you, that might be because... hmmm.. I don’t know, maybe because _you.won't.tell.me_.” she poked her finger against his chest with each of the last words.

He held her hand in place. Or in that case, in his hand.

“Stop... _poking_ me.” he seemed to be looking for anything to hold on to his argument now and Lydia fought the urge to smirk. “Well, maybe... maybe I would tell you more if you travelled any fucking less.”

She hummed a bit in fake consideration. “Hmm... no, sorry, I work. Or do you want me to drop everything just because my so-called soulmate...”

He snorted at that, letting go of her hand. “ _Soulmate_? What does that even mean at this point?!” he threw his hand in the air, walking back and forth in front of her.

Lydia crossed her arms against her chest.

“Means shit.” she snapped. “If you think about it, maybe we are wrong. Maybe you’re not even it, maybe...”

He walked back at her intensely, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it to reveal his neck.

“You _really_ think that? Well, think again!" he declared, his voice a mixture of rebellion and frustration. "It’s the same fucking mark, from the trace to the dot, to everything,  _the same fucking pattern_. So like it or not, love, you are stuck with me.” Stiles' voice went low on that last sentence, as if he was revealing some truth he himself couldn't believe. He kept staring at her, looking completely spent, but Lydia wasn’t really hearing it.

Her eyes dragged across his pale neck straight to the small symbol, right in the junction of his left shoulder and neck, and she couldn’t think anymore.

There it was. Amidst all the mess somehow she had completely forgotten the most basic thing, she hadn’t asked to see it. And the mistake that had been... Because now she was totally unprepared for it.

It was the same contours, and the same color tone, and the same patterns and, yes, the same dot. It was right there and it was hers to. And suddenly she couldn’t care less how much of an idiot Stiles was being, because she was _so fucking glad it was him._

Lydia raised her eyes to find him looking expectantly at her, probably waiting for her to scream back at him. But she only stared into his warm brown eyes and said: “Stiles, you are taking the iphone. You are also being an idiot. And if I don’t kiss you right now, I might actually die.”

There was silence as he prepared to answer her, processed her words and went to stare at her in complete shock, fingers letting go of his shirt slowly, breath heavy. He was so impossibly close, she hadn’t realized how much in their back and forth, but now she could almost feel the heat coming from his body. His eyes flickered to her lips, and he nodded slightly, maybe more to himself than to Lydia. “Yeah..." he breathed. "Yes.”

And she wasn’t sure who had come forth first, but when their lips crashed it was like she could finally breath.

Which, honestly, was physically impossible considering the fact that the act of kissing was mostly provoking the exactly opposite of... Stiles groaned into her mouth and she forgot what physics were. Lydia let herself drown into de fire that rested in her body and now seemed to be using his touch to set every single part of her body ablaze.

His hands came to her waist, but didn’t stay there. He seemed to be touching everything he could reach, from her waist, to her shoulders, and her hair. Lydia downright moaned when he dug his fingers on her hips and adjusted his head to open her mouth to him. She did it gladly, feeling his hot tongue wander inside her mouth, battling against her own, as if they weren’t done fighting just yet.

They came for air a second later, but only for Stiles to whisper something that sounded a lot like “ _fuck_ ” or “ _finally_ ” or both and move his attentions to her earlobe, to spreading kisses and little bites down her neck. Lydia whimpered, feeling herself already pathetically wet. And his mark was right there so she had to bite it. Stiles hissed coming back to stare at her, pupils blown wide and swollen lips and Lydia was losing the rest of sanity she had left.

She kissed him again, slowly this time, cradling his chin on her right hand, paying more attention to the softness of his lips and curling her fingers against the hair at the nape of his head. He hummed into her mouth, resting his hand low on her waist.

Lydia's left hand went down his torso, grabbing at his belt. She started pulling him a few steps back, then down to the couch and they were mid falling into it when the sound of the door closing behind them snapped her out of it.

_But of course, the universe, right?_

So that meant gravity made sure they were both already inclined enough that Lydia ended up against the couch and Stiles ass-hard on the floor.

He stood up in a flash of time, appearing completely divelished, looking to check on Lydia before making a face that told her he had a clue about who had interrupted them.

“ _Uh_ , hi” Scott said. He and Allison both stood by the door, matching grins splattered across their faces.

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love malia dearly, but let's face it, she would not know how to handle twitter.  
> next chapter we're going to beacon hills :)


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